


I'd Sell All My Bones for Sapphire Stones ('Cause Blue's Your Favorite Color)

by hilplusterrors



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Greek Mythology AU baby, Hades!Keith, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Soft tm romance, aka: in which a cute boy won't get out of Keith's house, and they fall in love, because they are very sweet, but based on the more palatable version of the myth, general love and affection, oh also rating is also for a few makeout scenes but nothing remotely explicit, persephone!Lance, rating for those plus a single f-bomb, truly pg 13 except the f is the only strong swear word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilplusterrors/pseuds/hilplusterrors
Summary: It's not easy being the god of the dead. It's a lot less easy when a handsome boy follows you home and decides to stay. And when it turns out that, in doing so, he caused his mother to kinda-sorta maybe refuse to let anything grow, causing hundreds of mortal deaths? Yeah. Not great. Unfortunately, Keith can't just send the boy home, because A: he doesn't want to leave, and B: Keith may or may not be falling in love.ORThe Hades!Keith/Persephone!Lance AU that I have not seen around at all but I KNOW you guys need in your lives (because I needed it in mine)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 183





	I'd Sell All My Bones for Sapphire Stones ('Cause Blue's Your Favorite Color)

**Author's Note:**

> ashjjgdak this took a year to write and it's not even that long but it's my first completed longer work so I'm proud of myself.  
> I don't remember what inspired this, it could be that "Keith just wants his dog back but he's a gay disaster" Hades/Persephone klance art, but I don't remember lol. It's probably that though since this has that exact scene in it. I'll have to find out who made it bc I saw it stolen on Pinterest.  
> Uuuhhhhhhh this is all you're seeing of me for a while tbh. I'm a tired college student and I've got a lot of ideas floating around in my head and no time to write them. The only reason this story got finished at all was because I need it to apply to a couple of zines, that was my motivation lol. Other than those I'm not planning anything not school-related for a while. If something happens, it happens, but I promise nothing. Just really long fics in a few years.  
> Title from Meteor Shower by cavetown, super cute song that really seems to fit this edition of their romance.  
> (Mik is pronounced "Meek" jsyk)

“Keith!”

The god of the dead sighed from his throne. “What now, Balthazar?”

The servant rested his hands on his knees, panting. “I – my lord – ah, Cerberus, he . . .”

Keith frowned. “Cerberus what, Balthazar?”

Balthazar regained his composure and straightened, but looked afraid. “He’s, ah . . . he’s gone, my lord.”

“He’s what?” Keith raised a dangerous eyebrow.

Balthazar grimaced. “I, uh . . . I swear I looked away for a second, my lord . . . but Cerberus . . . he’s fast! I don’t know how he did it, but he just - well – and he’s gone.”

Keith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And, ah, how long ago was this?”

Now the servant brightened. “Not long at all, my lord, I just realized. Finding him shouldn’t be too difficult, right? I mean, how far can such a giant dog go in just a few minutes?”

“You’d be surprised, Balthazar.”

“I-oh. Well, uh, where would you like me to start my search, my lord?”

“YOUR search?”

“M-my lord?”

Keith tamped down the frustration rising in him. This was not the servant’s fault, he was new, he didn’t know that you couldn’t take your eyes off of Cerberus for a second, that you had to watch the stupid three-headed mutt like a hawk, give the boy a break. “You don’t know Cerberus, Balthazar. You don’t know what he likes, what he doesn’t, or even, I’ll bet, all of the exits from the Underworld. There’s more than you think. You won’t know the first place to look, and even if you did find him this century – it’s a big world – you wouldn’t have a clue how to bring him back, would you? Don’t worry about it. I’ll go, I’ll find him.”

Balthazar was clearly stunned, and embarrassed, but Keith was already rising from his throne, and, with his night-dark hair, steel eyes, pale complexion, black robes, and the regal backdrop, he cut a rather scary figure, and Balthazar didn’t want to push his luck.

“Tell Artemas I’ve gone, and I’ll be back for dinner. Probably.”

“I-yes, my lord.”

“And Balthazar?”

“Yes, my lord?”

Keith smiled, and the servant was struck by the god of the Underworld’s beauty, even if he was intimidating. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not angry. Gorem should have told you to watch him better. Just don’t take your eyes off of my dog in the future. I worry when he’s lost.”

And with that, the lord of the Underworld swept out of the throne room, and Balthazar clutched his chest in surprise. His heart was pounding, and not from fear (anymore).

He might like this job better than he thought.

***

Keith popped in and out of the mortal world, mainly forests close to Underworld exits, searching. But it was getting him nowhere. He tried beaches, squirrel-rich woods, even towns that smelled like fish, but Cerberus wasn’t in any of the usual places. He swore under his breath, then had a thought.

“Artemis, may I speak with you?”

He had to ask three times, but she finally appeared, melting out of the trees like a dryad.

“What is it, Uncle? What is so urgent that you’re pulling me out of a hunt? I had the Cyrenian Hind in my hands, and if this is something trivial, I’m gonna be mad. She’s not easy to catch, you know. Doesn’t realize that I’m just trying to make sure she’s healthy.”

Keith coughed, uncomfortable. He felt bad now. But he’d already pulled her away, so he might as well ask.

“Have you, ah, sensed Cerberus, by any chance? He’s run-“

“What.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were hunting, but I can’t find him! I thought you would be able to help, with animals being your thing . . .”

Artemis glared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. I guess I can check around. But you owe me.”

“Of course, and again, I’m sorry.”

She waved him off and closed her eyes, focusing. “Hmm . . . I – no. Oh! Oh, that’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Keith asked, concern twisting in his chest for the first time.

“Oh, nothing,” the hinting goddess said, opening her moon-silver eyes. “I just figured he’d be somewhere less . . . obscure. It’s a small forest near Lemnos. He’s fine. Enjoying himself. Must have made a new friend. I’ll take you there, but then I’m getting back to the hunt. With luck, she won’t have gotten far.” Artemis extended her hand to Keith. He took it, and the world dissolved into darkness.

They materialized among trees, sun shining between the leaves and dappling the ground. It was a pretty place, with birds singing faintly in the distance and flowers growing everywhere. Keith saw why Cerberus would like it, and kind of liked it too, not that he would admit it. The lord of the dead has a reputation to keep up, after all.

“I’m not helping you search.” Artemis’s voice cut through his admiration and dragged him back into focus. That tended to happen when he ventured above ground.

“Thank-“ The goddess disappeared before Keith could finish his thanks, and he didn’t blame her. The Cyrenian Hind _was_ fast, and chances were, the Hunters weren’t following her with Artemis. She liked to chase the Hind on her own.

Keith started his search. The forest was small, but sunset was only a few hours away, and searching in the dark was _not_ fun. He knew from experience.

He was just on the verge of getting highly frustrated and blowing up a tree when he heard a voice.

“Who’s a good boy? WHO’S a GOOD BOY?! YOU’RE A GOOD BOY!!”

Keith frowned and started toward the voice. It sounded like some mortal had found Cerberus and decided that the dog was now his best friend. As mortals weren’t always capable of seeing monsters and creatures for what they were, this might very well cause this particular mortal’s death, and then Keith would feel bad.

The lord of darkness tripped into a clearing of sunshine and flowers and a young mortal being attacked by Cerberus. Well . . . was attacked the right word? It was a little hard to tell. Keith may have spent a little bit too long debating whether they were fighting or playing, before deciding that the laughter, yips, and lack of blood indicated the latter. At least there was that. But Keith still wanted his dog back, and the sooner the better.

He cleared his throat. “Cerberus.” The hellhound froze and looked up guiltily. “It’s time to go home.” Cerberus made some pathetic whining noises, but stepped back from the mortal, who sat up looking baffled.

Keith found himself incapable of movement, which was embarrassing later, but at the moment all he could focus on was this mortal boy. He had soft-looking curly brown hair just a bit darker than his skin, curious blue eyes, what a nose, and those lips, pretty lips help, and such LONG LIMBS HE’S A TREE WHAT and he was staring at Keith like he was seeing a god (which he was, but that didn’t help Keith’s basic functions like breathing).

“Is this your dog then?”

 _My brother,_ Keith thought, _what do I do with this?_

He coughed and cleared his throat again. “Ah, yes. Yes he is, Cerberus. Is my dog, I mean. Cerberus,” he gestured to the dog, “is my, ah . . .”

The boy grinned. “Lemme guess. Your dog?”

 _I’m going to die,_ Keith mused. _I can’t die, but this boy will kill me. He will be my end as surely as Zeus will screw up again._

“Yes,” he managed to say. “And I’m taking him home now. He’s going to make me late for dinner. So, if you’ll excuse us-“

“I don’t think so,” the boy interrupted. “You lost your dog. Pretty badly, too, from the look of it. You aren’t from around here, that’s obvious, and if you’re so careless with your dog somewhere you’re only traveling to, what are the chances he’s safe at home? Plus, he clearly likes me, and doesn’t want to leave with you, which is also not a good sign. So, no. He’s not going anywhere. At least, not without me.” He gave the intruder a subtle once-over and liked what he saw. Keith was too busy being confused by this mortal’s audacity and dead because HIS FACE HELP to notice. “After all, someone has to make sure that Cerberus here has a good, safe home, and I’m not convinced that you’re doing that.”

Keith had no idea how to respond to that. “I-what?”

The boy laughed again, and Keith figured he could live off of that sound, who needed ambrosia? “I want to see where you live, doofus. Make sure it’s a good home for my new friend here. Because frankly, I don’t trust you.”

Doofus? Maybe this boy wasn’t quite as perfect as he looked. “YOU don’t trust ME? I’M the one who just found my dog with a random stranger, and YOU’RE trying to tell ME how to take care of him? I should vaporize you now.”

The boy just laughed. “Come on, man. Show me his home. Unless you want me to pester Artemis with prayers about a dog with a potentially bad home . . ?”

Keith growled. This conversation was starting to be more trouble than it was worth. “And if I say no?” Yet the idea of this boy in the Underworld wasn’t unappealing . . .

What was he thinking? That he could bed this mortal like his brother? He wasn’t Zeus, didn’t want to be, and besides, that would be impossible. He was the least smooth god he knew.

“If you say no, I’ll just follow you,” the boy said. “And I’ll never leave you alone.”

Keith smiled wryly, deciding to end this torture and knowing full well that he would want to kill himself later because of it, and grabbed Cerberus’s collar. “Good luck with that,” he said, and vanished.

He materialized in his throne room and patted Cerberus on the head. “And we’re home. Now back to your post.” The dog woofed and ran off toward the entrance to the Underworld to stand guard.

“Where’s that?” asked a voice behind him. Keith nearly jumped out of his skin and spun to see who DARED-

The mortal boy was following Cerberus’s tail with his eyes as the dog left with a curious expression. HoW-

“What . . ?”

The boy raised his eyebrows and grinned. _Oh no._ “I said I would follow you.”

“H . . . how? What? I-“

“Your cloak isn’t that hard to grab. You might wanna fix that.” The boy’s grin widened to a smirk, and Keith dies inside for at least the fifth time in as many minutes.

“You-you DARE-“

“I make good on my promises, Keith. I said I wanted to see where your dog lived. I guess I’ve done that now. But,” he cocked his head, “I’m not ready to leave just yet. I think I’ll need a full tour.”

Keith was sweating now. What was he supposed to do? How did this impudent boy know who he was? Should he . . . vaporize him? Wipe his memory? Toss him out?

“I-I . . .” The boy was looking at him funny, and it was messing with his insides. As in, they felt more like mush the longer those dark, berry-blue eyes were on him.

The boy swept his arm around, gesturing to the palace. “Show me.”

Too confused and distraught from attraction to think straight, Keith swallowed hard and nodded.

***

BOY did this kid have a lot of questions, Keith thought several times over the next hour. A lot of questions, a lot of comments, and a crap ton of annoying snark.

However, he did not seem to have a name, or at least didn’t feel like sharing it, and Keith didn’t know how to ask.

“What about gardens? Do you have any of those? Wait, duh, of course you do, you have everything here – or maybe not, I mean, you don’t really seem the type for gardens, and like, how would anything grow? I don’t know, I like gardens, get it from my mom - hey what do you like? Books, exercise, play? Or are you a ‘work all day, that’s what day is for’ kind of guy? And oh-“

“Would you be quiet?” Keith snapped. “I can’t hear myself think!”

The boy’s smile fell off of his face. “O-oh,” he said, noticeably diminished. “Sorry. I-I know I talk too much, I . . . sorry . . .”

Keith’s face went hot. He was an idiot. A complete jerk. This boy was smiling and laughing and having a wonderful time and it wasn’t his fault that Keith wasn’t used to so much chatter. WHO told this kid that he talked too much? Who would do something so hateful to such a bright soul?

“I-“ What could he say? “No. I’m sorry. You don’t talk too much at all, I just-“ He sighed, not sure how to explain that he liked it, but it was too _much._ “Talk all you want, just, maybe not so loud? So fast? I can’t keep up.”

The boy smiled hesitantly. “Umm, o-okay?” Something in his eyes made Keith’s heart pound, maybe their sparkle, maybe the emotion that he couldn’t place, but was definitely there, maybe just the bright color. Maybe all three. He really was beautiful.

Silence settled between them for a moment too long, and Keith realized too late that he was staring and averted his gaze. “Um, I do, actually.”

“What?”

Keith flushed. “Have a garden. Garden, gardens, I-whatever. Do you want to see them? They’re, uh . . . well, I like them. I don’t know if they’re your style, but . . . “

The boy smiled again, a larger, beautifully bright smile that DID things to Keith. “Yeah! I - yeah. I would like to. To see it. Them.”

Keith smiled too. That was getting easier, less awkward and wrong-feeling. “Then let’s go.”

***

Next thing Keith knew, they were having dinner, laughing and talking like old friends. But it hit him as the servants whisked away the dishes that the boy would have to leave eventually. Keith couldn’t keep him. And he didn’t like that.

“I suppose,” he said with far less enthusiasm than he’d had just a moment before, “you’ll have to go. Your, uh, parents will be worried, won’t they?”

The boy’s smile disappeared. “Yeah . . . I guess so. Umm . . .”

Keith didn’t know what to say.

After a beat, they stood at the same time. Keith’s face went hot. “Ah, thank you. For – for this. It was . . .” Thank you? For what? Being beautiful? Shut your mouth.

“Um, yeah,” said the boy. “It was kinda fun, wasn’t it? I mean, it was for me . . .”

Keith wanted to die. “Me – ahm. Me too. This was . . . nice.”

Nice wasn’t the right word. Lovely. Beautiful. Something he would remember both fondly and painfully for years to come. But he could hardly say any of those things. And they could only be memories; this couldn’t happen again. It would be a one-time thing, because he couldn’t afford to get attached. Not that he wasn’t already, but. He didn’t want to be the next Selene or Eos. He should send the boy home and forget his existence. This never happened. But . . .

The boy’s expression turned mischievous. “But who says I’m ready to go?”

Keith choked on a sip of water. “W-what?”

The boy tilted his head and grinned. “I’m not ready to leave yet,” he said, plain as day. “I like it here. I think-“ he looked around, nodding to himself, “I think I’d like to stay. Yeah,” he turned back to Keith, “I want to stay. This place is cool, much cooler than mine, and, well, you’re cool too.” He flushed slightly, grappling for a moment with composure, but Keith was too busy trying to comprehend what he was saying to notice. “Uhh . . . anyway, I like this place, and I’m staying.” He nodded like that was that.

Keith gaped. What? Who did . . . what? What was he supposed to do with this? How was he supposed to deal with a mortal who didn’t want to leave?

The boy grinned. “And I guess, if I’m staying – I can’t believe it never came up earlier – you should know my name.” Keith couldn’t breathe. “It’s Mikragori. My name’s Mikragori. Uh, Mik, if you want.”

What.

No.

Way.

This was not happening.

“D-Demeter’s kid?” he managed to choke out. “Mikragori?” How had he not seen it before? He should have noticed the difference. Maybe he had, but had written it off as not being around living mortals, uh, ever. His confidence around the god of the dead, his near-divine – no, divine – beauty – everything about him screamed ‘NOT MORTAL,’ “You’re- you’re-“

“Yeah, Demeter’s kid,” the boy – Mikragori – said quickly. “God of springtime and flowers and all that crap. The airhead pretty-boy.” Keith blinked. Why would he think that?

Though . . . that WAS how the other gods talked about Mikragori, little boy. Like he was dumb. Vapid, overly flowery, probably the annoying kind of gay, an Aphrodite follower, ridiculous. Frivolous. As though they weren’t. And now, looking at him, Keith wondered how it was even possible to come to a conclusion like that. Maybe it was the flowers. Maybe the fact that he was friends (or at least friendly) with Aphrodite. Probably because Zeus couldn’t be bothered to get to know his own son, and chose to feed the gossip instead. Whatever the reason, they thought poorly of Mikragori, and while Keith had never liked that about them, the knowledge now infuriated him.

“You’re not an airhead,” he said. “You’re- you’re not stupid, you don’t talk too much, you’re not annoying, you’re-“ He cut himself off before he could say ‘You’re amazing,’ ‘You’re beautiful,’ ‘You’re perfect.’ He stammered for a moment until he could work out less telling words. “You’re fascinating. You’re smart, and nice, and, well . . .” He decided to stop while he could.

Mikragori was blushing. “Um. I, um.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Thanks. I . . . I don’t hear that much. You’re nice too.

Keith wanted to punch something, but let it slide. Mikragori picked at his nails, not looking at him.

The silence became awkward. Keith took a deep breath. “So. You, uh. You want to, uh, stay. Here. In the Underworld.”

Mikragori blushed a little redder, but grinned, looking back up. “Yes. I like it here, and my mom could use a heart attack.”

Okay. Um. “A heart attack? Why? Is she harsh?” He honestly couldn’t remember. He really ought to talk to his family more often.

Mikragori chuckled. “No, not really, no. She’s just . . . I don’t know, overbearing. You know?”

Keith didn’t. His mother was a little odd, he’d be the first to admit, but fine, as far as moms go. He nodded anyway.

“But . . . I don’t know. I feel . . . like this is where I belong, you know?” Mikragori said. “’Cause like, flowers and spring and all that are nice, but this place . . . it feels right. I don’t know, that probably sounds stupid.”

“No,” Keith said, “not at all. I mean, I get that. Sort of. I just wasn’t expecting it. That I’m not the only person to think that, anyway.” Mik blinked at him, eyebrows raised. “I mean, you’re a first. To also like the Underworld. At least, as far as I know. I don’t really talk to people much, so I wouldn’t really know, but I don’t get many visitors.”

Mikragori – or, Keith supposed, Mik – smiled a little. “Yeah. I guess we’re just a couple of weirdos.”

Keith’s heart fluttered annoyingly. _Stop it!_ he thought. _You’re going to make me look dumb! Stop freaking out over a cute boy!_ “I guess we are,” he said aloud, and immediately wanted to stab himself.

Mik grinned. “So . . . about staying?”

Knowing full well that this was a terrible decision, and hating himself for liking it so much, Keith said, “Fine. Stay.”

Mik lit up like Hyperion. “Really!? I can stay? You mean it?”

He was so cute, all excited like a puppy, and Keith was a goner. “Yeah. Stay. Freak out your mom. Annoy your dad. This place could use someone lively anyway.”

“Yes!” Mik looked like he was going to explode with glee. “Thank you!” He threw his arms around Keith and Keith lost the ability to breathe. He let go almost immediately, talking a mile a minute. “You won’t regret this, I promise I won’t talk too much or annoy you I’ll stay out of your way and just play with your dog you know and-“

Keith didn’t actually hear most of what he was saying, because he was too busy dying and kicking himself and trying not to blush. This was going to kill him. Zeus was going to kill him. Scratch that, Zeus wouldn’t care, Demeter would kill him. He was dead. And he didn’t care.

He realized that Mikragori had gone silent and was looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, what?”

“Uh,” he flushed, “where, uh, should I sleep? ‘Cause like, the throne room is cool, but the floor is pretty hard, and the gardens aren’t really the best place to sleep either – anyway, um . . .”

“Oh. Ah . . .” Keith hadn’t thought of that. He actually hadn’t really thought anything since he’s run into Mik. Literally everything he’d done since had been on impulse and instinct. “Umm . . . let’s see, uh . . .” He was drawing a blank why was he drawing a blank think Keith think this isn’t hard you’ve had guests before oh help-

Mikragori flushed. “Um. Actually, well. The gardens wouldn’t actually be that bad. You know. Or, uh-“

“No!” Keith said, a little too vehemently. “I – no. No, I’ve, um. I’ve got some, uh, guest rooms. I just – sorry. This is kind of weird, I don’t have this happen much. Like, at all. Sorry.”

Mik’s blush faded, but didn’t leave entirely. “Oh. O-okay then. Show me?”

Keith’s face heated up a little, at both the idea of showing Mik to a bedroom and the realization that this was really happening, Mikragori was staying here, here, in Keith’s palace, and he could show Mik his job and have someone to talk to and all sorts of wonderful things . . .

“Yeah,” he said, a little breathlessly, and led the way.

***

Days passed in a bit of a blur. They fell into a routine, interacting easily and often. They fell into a routine, interacting easily and often, and Mik liked watching Keith pronounce judgement on the occasional soul that needed extra attention. Keith just liked watching Mik.

It was good. Keith was happy. Happier than he remembered ever being. Except when Mik smiled or laughed or did literally anything and Keith’s chest seized up and his heart beat too fast and he started sweating and wishing death upon himself. Otherwise it was perfect.

One day, Keith was seeing a spirit who disputed his fate. Keith was bored. This happened a lot. Mikragori was fascinated.

“Lord Keith, you must understand,” the spirit pleaded. “I had no choice. Our crops stopped growing. Everything is dying. My children were hungry. I had no choice, my lord, I would never have done it, but they . . . you didn’t see them cry. I never wanted it to go so far, I swear, please, you must have mercy!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I _must_ have mercy? Do I have a say in the matter, or shall I just bow to every mortal’s whim?”

The spirit groveled. “I- no, my lord Keith, I just meant – well, surely you understand, don’t you? Please, you must- please reconsider.”

Keith had no patience for this. The man had been a thief, then a murderer. Excuses weren’t something he tolerated. But before he could open his mouth to re-condemn the spirit, Mik spoke up.

“What did you mean? When you said the crops were dying,” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“I-“ the spirit seemed confused. He’d never heard of two gods pronouncing judgement. But maybe he could get some sympathy from this other one. “My lord, nothing has grown right in weeks. It’s gotten cold, and no new crops are growing, and, well, the ones not ready for harvest yet are dying before they can ripen. No one knows what’s happening, but Demeter seems to have cursed the land. We don’t know how we’ve earned her wrath, and we’ve tried everything, but we’re hungry. Desperate. Please – this isn’t right. Our children are dying.”

Mik frowned. “How long has this been going on?” he asked the spirit.

“Um, that’s hard to say, my lord,” the spirit answered. “It’s, um, hard to pinpoint that sort of thing, really. But . . . I’d say about two moons ago? That’s about a week before anyone noticed what was happening.”

Mik’s face darkened. “Keith,” he said, “this man speaks true. I’m sure of that. Let him off, would you? This wasn’t his fault, not really. Parents will do anything when their children suffer.”

Keith scowled. “He’s a thief. A killer.”

“And that was wrong, but it was also an accident.”

“Stealing was an accident?”

“Keith! Who sets out to get his children some food and intends to kill? It was completely unintentional, there was no desire to hurt the man, and it only happened because the man got overly aggressive ‘defending’ his stall. He instigated the fight, he pulled the knife, this was self-defense!”

“Self-defense that would not have been necessary had he not resorted to thievery.”

“How can you say that? Who ‘resorts’ to thievery if they aren’t desperate? This man made some mistakes, but he was a victim of circumstance. Besides, neither thievery nor killing in self-defense are an automatic sentence to the Fields of Punishment. Murder, yes, but this was not that. This man deserves no worse than Asphodel.

Keith realized he was leaning forward on his throne, nearly standing, and sat back. This was not what he’d expected from Mik, he was impressed. The young god argued well, and he was clearly familiar enough with mortals to understand them, and their motives, far better than Keith could. It hadn’t occurred to him that thievery was a desperate act. He definitely couldn’t expect Mik’s passion for others AND intelligence from any of the other gods. Except Hestia. He should talk to her sometime, it had been a while . . .

He studied Mik for a moment, then said, “Very well.” He turned to the spirit. “Your sentence is lifted. You will spend eternity in Asphodel.”

The spirit fell to his knees, nearly sobbing with relief. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you, thank you-“

“Yes, yes,” Keith said. “Balthazar, send this spirit on his way, will you?” The servant bowed and led the spirit away. Keith stood and stretched, then turned to Mik. “Well, you’ve got things to say today, don’t you?”

Mik colored, but didn’t, to his credit, back down or apologize. “Well, you were going to send him to Punishment. That would have been wrong. Did you think I’d just sit by and watch?”

“Honestly, yes. Any other god would have. And I – well, I’m not used to mercy. Justice is more what I do.”

Mik smiled crookedly. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve gotten from you. You’re pretty blunt, and harsh.”

Ouch. But he was annoyingly cute. And his smiles still killed Keith every time. “Well, thank you. For intervening. I get a bit . . . a bit of tunnel vision sometimes. Don’t want to see anything to contradict what I already think.”

“Then I guess I have no choice but to stick around. Someone’s gotta make sure you can see.”

Keith chuckled, even as his heart sped into overdrive, then, accidently, he’d later swear, his gaze fell to Mik’s lips. It was only for an instant, and he wasn’t sure if Mik even noticed, but there was a definite change in the air.

 _Kiss him,_ said his thoughts. _Shut up,_ he replied.

Mik looked down, and whatever spell had been going on was broken. He cleared his throat. “Um, so, what that man said. About my mother cursing the earth? Do you know anything about that?”

“No,” Keith said. “But that means nothing. I never hear about anything. It could be true.”

“I wasn’t questioning his credibility,” Mik said, “I was wondering why my mother would pull that kind of thing. She likes mortals.”

Keith coughed. “Um.”

“What?”

“Well.”

“Keith, what?”

“Have you spoken to her at all? Or are you missing, as far as she knows?”

“Oh.” Mik paled. “I meant to talk to her. I, uh . . . forgot to.”

Keith snorted. “You forgot to?”

“It’s not funny, Keith, people are dying!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It is not! It’s awful! I’ve gotta talk to her. But . . .” He paused, considering something. “She doesn’t like you. Or the Underworld. She – she wouldn’t like this. She might stop me from coming back. I don’t . . . I don’t want that.”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Or three. He wasn’t keeping track. “Can she do that?”

“I don’t know. She does a lot. Keeps me away from mortals when she can. Says she doesn’t want me to get attached and get my heart broken. Pushes me to be . . . well, you know what everyone thinks I’m like. She pushes me to be like that. And I don’t want to be.”

Keith didn’t know whether to blow something up or hug Mik. He went for what he hoped was a comforting hand-on-shoulder move. “Hey, it won’t be that bad. That won’t happen.”

Mik shrugged. He still looked nervous. Then he paled alarmingly. “Oh. Oh, no, no. No, what-“ He looked sick.

“What?” Keith asked.

“I-“ He swallowed. “I-I can’t go. I can’t. I-“ He seemed so distraught, and Keith didn’t know what to do. “I can’t – nobody can know I’m here. Nobody. I-“

“Hey,” Keith said. “it’s okay. Calm down, you’re, um. It’s alright. Don’t worry-“

“You don’t understand,” Mik interrupted. “NOBODY can know I’m here. Ever. It-“ He tried to catch his breath. “It would be . . . awful. I can’t – won’t. I won’t go. You hear me? I won’t. And you can’t tell anyone, Keith. Please, I can’t-“

He broke off, tears in his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself. “I CAN’T leave, Keith, I don’t care if my mother panics forever, I – I can’t.”

Keith was feeling way too much. His chest hurt, everything hurt, seeing Mik like this made it hard to breathe. “Why – uh, why not?” he asked softly.

Mik squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t – don’t. I – don’t ask me. Please. Um. Ex – um, excuse me.” He left the throne room at a near run, leaving Keith confused, angry, torn between respecting Mik’s privacy and chasing him down and hugging him until ribs cracked, and angry that he was too cowardly to take the option he wanted to take.

“My lord?” Keith was shaken from his stupor.

“Y-yes, Balthazar?”

“You have another sentence disputation, my lord.”

Keith sighed, and slumped back onto his throne. “Send them in.”

***

The next few days were tense. Mik wouldn’t look Keith in the eyes, he hardly ate, and he’s lost his spark. He seemed diminished, small, scared. He flinched every time Keith tried to speak with him, and was either brusque or unresponsive, so Keith would eventually give up. He worried. But he didn’t know how to help.

But he finally got tired of it. It sucked. So, at dinner a few days after whatever that was, while Mik picked at his food, Keith said, “This is ridiculous.”

Mik tensed in his seat, but said nothing. His eyes had been wandering a bit, but now they were suddenly glued to his plate. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words.

“Mik,” he said more softly, “you’ve gotta talk to me.”

He didn’t respond, just set his food down and hid his hands in his lap.

“Mik,” Keith pleaded in a voice barely above a whisper, “I’m worried about you. You don’t – you don’t talk anymore. Or smile.” What he would give to see that smile again . . . “I want you to be happy here. Your life should be good. I want to help you.”

Mik’s face screwed up, and tears rolled down his cheeks. _Crap,_ Keith thought, _crap crap crap please don’t cry crap what do I do crap somebody help me-_

“I’m sorry.” Mik’s voice was barely audible. “I’m sorry I’m worrying you, Keith. I’m-“ He gasped a little, trying to catch his breath. “I’m just s-scared. I don’t kn-know what to do, and I just-“ He gasped again and stopped. He just sat there, hiccupping silently, seemingly unable to stop the tears.

Keith abandoned his seat and crossed the room to Mik, and pulled him to his feet. Mik tried to jerk away, but Keith hugged him hard, and after a moment, he melted. He sobbed quietly into Keith’s robes, clinging to him like a leech, and Keith held him, trying not to shake.

Slowly, Keith’s hand moved up from Mik’s shoulder to his hair. It curled softly around his fingers, and he had to resist the urge to dig them in. The gesture may have been comforting, but it also made Mik grab fistfuls of Keith’s robes and cry harder, which in turn make Keith’s heart seize up. How long had it been since anyone had shown this boy some affection? Keith had to actively keep himself from getting mad, because now was not the time.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay.” Mik just sucked in a shaky breath and buried his face deeper into Keith’s shoulder. His sobs slowly subsided, but he didn’t let go. Keith held him, determined not to be the first and let Mik make this hug as long as he needed.

Finally, Mik sighed and loosened his grip on Keith, still not pulling away. “Sorry,” he whispered, “I-“

“Don’t you apologize.” Keith stopped him, stepping back (much as it pained him) and putting his hands on Mik’s shoulders. “You get to cry. You get to have emotions. That’s existence. Don’t apologize for hurting, or panicking, or anything else you can’t help.” He squeezed Mik’s shoulders, partly to reassure him, partly to keep his hands away from his face.

Mik took deep breaths, slowly steadying himself. “Look, Keith,” he said, voice soft and still a little wavery, “I don’t – I don’t want-“

“My lord?”

Keith scowled as he turned to see what Balthazar wanted now. “What?”

Balthazar withered at Keith’s expression, but stood firm. “You have a – ah – visitor. He’s in your throne room. Demands to see you, um, immediately.”

“Well, tell him not now. I’m busy.”

Balthazar flushed. “I . . . can’t do that, my lord.”

“And why not?”

“He’s, um, important. You know. Um, I mean, this isn’t some pretentious mortal, it’s . . .”

“I’m in the middle of dinner, Balthazar, a guest can wait.”

“It’s Hermes, my lord.”

Crap. If this meant what Keith thought it meant . . .

He looked at Mik, who had gone slightly pale. “I’m not here,” he whispered, looking desperate. “I’m not here, Keith, please.”

Whatever was going on with Mik, Keith wouldn’t betray him. He didn’t think it was even possible. He nodded briefly, then turned back to Balthazar. “Fine. Tell him I’m coming,”

The servant bowed and scurried off. Keith glanced at his friend. “You okay?”

Mik steadied himself. “I- yes. I’m fine. I just- go. Don’t – don’t keep him waiting. And don’t-“

“You’re not here. I know.” It occurred to Keith for a nasty second that Mik’s not wanting the other gods to know he was in the Underworld was because of him, but he shook that thought off immediately. Mik was too . . . good to be that shallow. No, his reasoning was different. Deeper. Keith wanted to know it, of course, but Mik wasn’t talking yet, and Keith had a meeting. “I’ll, uh . . .”

“I’ll be in the gardens. If you want to talk. Or . . . I kind of want to talk. Later. So. Um. That’s where I’ll be.” Mik was slightly pink-faced, but serious. Keith nodded, and vanished, quickly, because if he stayed another moment he would have kissed Mik or done something equally disastrous.

Hermes was admiring Keith’s throne, running his hands over it like it was his. Keith had never liked Hermes. He was Olympus’s biggest gossip, beaten only, maybe, by Aphrodite, and whipping Apollo, which was saying something. Besides, the stuff Apollo said was (mostly) harmless, and Aphrodite . . . less so, but not as outright cruel as Hermes. Hermes made disgusting jokes, revealed secrets meant for no one’s ears, turned mortals’ letters and lives into entire comedies. Keith hardly even ever saw him other than annual meetings on mortal affairs, but had gleaned his knowledge from two days of Hermes’s best behavior a year, and was even aware that he was a frequent butt of his jokes. To call him anything more than tolerant of the messenger god was a high exaggeration of his patience.

“Best not to get too handsy,” he said drily.

Hermes jumped back, but not much, and immediately drew up a suave expression. “There you are, Keith. I was wondering how long you’d take to show up. You treat all guests this way?” He smiled genially, but Keith was having none of it, not even the opportunity to take a jab at him.

“What do you want? I was eating.”

Hermes grinned wider. “What, no ‘hello, how’s it going?’ Nothing?”

“What do you want, Hermes?” Keith had no patience for this.

“Fine, fine.” Hermes threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I come with an agenda. And I’m sure you know what it is, too, don’t you?”

Keith crossed his arms, waiting. He wasn’t going to make this easier if he could help it.

Hermes sighed. “Mikragori. Have you seen him? He’s missing, and Demeter is worried out of her mind.”

Keith pretended to think. “Nnn-no. No, I don’t believe I have.”

Hermes scowled. “Yes you have. Where is he?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Keith said, fighting down a grin.

The other god huffed. “Keith, don’t bother. We all know. Everyone knows.”

That was . . . a bit disconcerting. Did Hermes mean whatever it was that Mik was so afraid of?

“Mikragori is here, Keith, I know it, you know it, so why can’t you just give him to me so I can be on my way?”

“Well,” Keith decided that riling up Hermes would be a bit of cathartic fun, “because he isn’t here. That’s why. Now, if that’s all-“

“Don’t play dumb! I know you have him, Demeter knows you have him, and soon Zeus will, if you don’t give him back. Let him go before I have to get _him_ involved.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hermes. He’s not here.”

Hermes’s face went red with anger. “Now see here, Keith. You were seen, you and Mik, together, and that was the last anyone saw of him. Demeter is frantic. She won’t let anything grow. Now stop being difficult and let him go, or the mortals will all starve.”

“I don’t have him.” Keith didn’t like the way Hermes used Mik’s nickname, like he owned it.

Hermes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Keith, I’m just doing my job. Help me out here.”

“Like I said-“

Hermes made a noise in his throat like an angry cat, then sighed, and put on a sly smile. “Look, you don’t have to be embarrassed. He can be . . . persuasive. He’ll promise anything to get what he wants. And lately . . . well, he was a thing for me, honestly. It’s just a phase, I’m sure, it’ll pass, but still. And I, ah, embarrassed him. It was an accident, just a joke, but, well . . .”

Keith scowled. He did that too much. Was this why Mik didn’t want to leave? Was he hiding from an unrequited crush? Did he even want to be here, or was it all . . .

No. Hermes was probably lying anyway. He wasn’t going to let him make him doubt Mik.

“Anyway, I don’t blame him. Or you. Mik probably promised you some sort of . . . favor. Am I right? Or maybe-“ He pursed his lips, considering. “Or maybe you brought him here yourself. He IS cute, and you wouldn’t have a hard time with him, he’s so easy, and you’re so – well – you, I mean, it’s not like you’re unattractive, it’d be a snap. Is that it?”

Keith had to clasp his hands behind his back to keep them from clenching into fists. If Hermes didn’t shut up, he was going to get hurt.

“Or maybe it’s both? Maybe you got attached. I’m not judging, it wouldn’t be hard, he’s not half bad, and, well, not half bad, if you get my meaning.” Hermes chuckled conspiratorially. “But look, you can’t keep him. I need to take him back to his mother. So, if you’ll kindly-“

“I. Don’t. Have. Him.” Keith snarled. He wanted to smash Hermes’s face on the floor, to chase him through the Underworld until his stupid winged sandals fell apart. “Stop asking.”

Hermes’s expression turned sour. “Keith-“

“I think,” Keith said loudly, “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Hermes turned the color of pomegranates. “I don’t think so, Keith. I’m here to-“

“YOU DON’T THINK SO?” Keith was suddenly huge, towering over the puny messenger god. “You are in MY palace, putting your hands on MY throne, disrespecting me TO my FACE, and YOU think YOU get to decide?” He seized Hermes by the hair. “I said it’s time for you to go!”

He dragged Hermes in an instant to a forest, he didn’t know or care where. He kicked the other god in the stomach and about pulled his hair out, then dropped him and left him alone in the woods.

Back in his throne room, Keith took a deep breath, calming himself. That had felt good. Maybe too good, but what did that matter? Mik wasn’t going anywhere.

Mik. Keith sighed. How was he supposed to tell Mik about this? But he needed to tell him. To the gardens, he supposed.

Mik was kneeling in front of a rose bush, speaking to the flowers, or maybe himself, but not out loud. Petals brightened, buds opened, the entire bush bloomed at his touch. He seemed calmer. Happy. Like he’d found a sanctuary from his worries. He looked . . . at peace. Keith hated to be the breaker of his quiet. But he had to.

He made his footsteps loud as he approached. Mik looked up. His face was a little blotchy and red. Maybe he hadn’t been as peaceful as Keith had thought. “Hey.” He swiped at his nose. “How’d it go?”

Keith tried to smile, but it probably looked like a grimace. “I threw him out.”

Mik blinked. “Why?”

Keith shrugged. “He was being a jerk. He-“ Keith hesitated. He didn’t want to hurt Mik any more than he’d already been hurt. But Mik wasn’t fooled.

“What did he say?”

“A . . . a lot of things.” Keith wouldn’t tell him . . . that. He wouldn’t. It would be pointless and hurtful. “Demeter knows you’re here. I don’t think she has proof, so she can’t attack me directly, but she’s . . . flipping out, really. She’s going nuts looking for you.”

Mik scowled, looking back at the rose bush in front of him. He decided it was big enough and stood, not facing Keith. “Did he demand I come back?”

What could Keith do? Lie? “Yeah,” he admitted. “I said you weren’t here, refused to admit it, and it really ticked him off. ‘Cause like, he knew I was lying, and he knew that I knew that he knew it. That sounds weird.”

Mik’s mouth twitched, and he looked over at Keith. “Nah,” he said. “That sounds great, actually. How many different colors did he turn?” He asked the question with an uncharacteristically savage glee, like screwing with Hermes was something he’d wanted to do for a long time. It kind of frightened Keith. Not as much as it intrigued him.

“Oh, a few,” he answered. “Several shades of red, a pretty awesome gray, probably green.”

Mik raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? How’d you manage that?”

“He got demanding. I didn’t like it. I shouted him down. He doesn’t give me orders, not in my palace. I think I scared him a bit. I hope I did. As for green, I kicked him in the stomach.”

Mik choked. “You what?”

Keith grinned at the astonished and slightly delighted expression on his face. “I kicked him. He was ticking me off. I also dumped him in a forest.”

Mik laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks, even though it had only been a few days. “That sounds AWESOME,” he gasped, and while Keith felt kind of crappy, both from knowing how awful Mik felt and from the entire encounter with Hermes, the sound, the sight, the beauty of that laugh made him smile.

He chuckled softly, then grew serious. “Why do you dislike him so much?”

Mik’s smile fell immediately. His entire body seemed to fold in on itself, like he was afraid of being attacked. “I-I don’t-“ He coughed, cleared his throat. “Wh-who says I don’t like him?”

Keith raised his eyebrows. Mik glared at him, then sighed. His expression as he caved hurt Keith’s heart. He looked so small. Fragile. Vulnerable, breakable, afraid.

Mik fingered a small, thorny plant and shifted closer to it, looking at it instead of Keith. “Look at you,” he murmured. “You could use some love, huh? Somebody should take care of you-“ He choked and stopped.

“Mik? Are you?”

“I hate him. I-“ He swallowed. “I HATE Hermes, I hate him.” Keith blinked, not knowing what to say. “He- he- I hate him, for EVERYTHING. I-“ Mik swiped, almost angrily, at his eyes, his voice thick. “He never- I thought- and I can’t even go near him now, I-“ He inhaled sharply and took a moment, steadying himself. “Sorry. I-

“We- we used to date. Hermes and me. There’s that. We- I thought- well, I liked him. Sort of. I don’t even know, he asked me out, maybe I was just excited at the thought of-

“I don’t know. This is- it’s stupid. This whole thing is stupid. But I hate him, for all of it, and m-myself, for letting it happen . . .

“He never did it in front of me.

“I-I knew the others did it, but I didn’t r-really know how much. Or-or that he did too. I thought- I assumed- you get to do that, when you’re dating someone, you get to ASSUME they’re not m-mocking you behind your back like everyone else, that’s like, rule number one when you’re d-dating someone, and-

“But after a bit I r-realized that he was- was- was doing it t-too. He- I heard him once, w-when he didn’t think I was there, he-

“I don’t- I don’t even remember what he said – well that’s not true, but it doesn’t matter – but- but it- it hu-hurt. It-

“And I didn’t know how to ask him about it, and so I just- just didn’t. I was af-fraid, really, to con-confr-ont him, and I w-wanted to bel-lieve that I’d m-misheard. Or misunderst-stood. I didn’t l-like to think that I’d made a b-bad choice by d-dating him.

“But it h-happened again, he- I heard him. W-when I wasn’t in the r-room, I heard him t-talk about me like- like I was- like ev-erything everyone else s-says and worse. Like he couldn’t s-stand me.

“And the w-worst part of it was, I th-thought he cared about me. Y-you know? I thought- but m-maybe gods can’t. Maybe only m-mortals can- can care about someone like that. I don’t know.

“And it happened ag-gain, and a-gain, and he st-started doing it in fr-front of me, like I could-n’t understand, like I w-wouldn’t get his jokes. And- I hated it. I hate- hate- HATE- being Olympus’s j-joke, but I can’t d-do anything ab-bout it.

“F-finally, I decided that it was en-ough. I c-couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t b-be with someone l-like him. I decided I’d d-dump him. Humiliate him, if I c-could. I w-wanted him to feel p-pathetic, like- like a j-joke. Like he alw-ways made m-me feel. And so-

“We were- in the th-throne room. Y-you know. And I was s-sitting by his feet, and hanging out w-with Ap-pollo and Poseidon. And- Ares m-marches in, and- I don’t remember everyone s-said, but Ares made s-some stupid s-sex joke, and ev-everybody laughed, and I d-didn’t, because it was-n’t even f-funny, and Hermes p-pokes me in the side with his f-foot, and th-throws in some-thing about me, and-

“It’s- it’s not like he’d kn-know, it’s not l-like we ev-er- you know? He j-just- he was just m-making things up, f-for whatev-er. I kn-know he said st-tuff like that a- a lot. But it was all m-made up. I d-don’t know why.

“But they all s-started laugh-ghing, at m-me, and I got so- mad. I couldn’t th-think, and-

“I HAD a p-plan. I had a script and ev-everything. I kn-knew what I wanted to s-say, but I forgot all th-that and just started sh-shouting. I’m not p-proud of what I s-said, but it j-just made them laugh m-more. It f-felt good, honestly, but it did-n’t d-do any good.

“He – Hermes – c-called me _cute._ To my f-face. A-and a b-baby. T-told me if I c-couldn’t take a j-joke, then maybe Olympus w-wasn’t for me. Th-that I should g-go back to clinging to my m-mother’s skirts. And I sh-shouted some m-more, but it was pointl-less. And I was- I was gonna c-cry, and I couldn’t l-let them see that, so all I could d-do was run. I screamed that I h-hated them and r-ran away. And hid in the m-mortal realm for a week. The day I met you w-was actually the f-first good one since. And if I sh-show my face there ag-gain, I know I’ll n-never live it d-down. They don’t f-forget godly d-drama, I’ll always be fucking C-Crybaby Mik to them and I- I hate them. I hate them, I hate all of them, I-“

Mik had managed to keep it together, if just barely, until now, but all of a sudden he broke down, shoulders shaking, body curled up on itself, tears dripping off his face. The flowers in front of him, which had been blooming and growing beautifully, shriveled and turned yellow, as if in response to his pain. Keith felt lost, angry, wanting to cry himself.

How could they be so cruel? Keith had known that they were awful, but to bring the god of spring and sunshine to his knees, to tears? Keith would kill them all, starting with Hermes. He would string them up by the ankles, flay them alive for a century, feed them to a manticore, and scatter the remains across the universe so they could never hurt Mik again, with their heads in Tartarus so their awarenesses would be trapped with monsters that hated them for eternity. He would personally tear them limb from limb and make them wish they had never been born.

Mik hiccupped especially hard, and there went the anger. He couldn’t seem to hold onto any negative emotion around him.

He knelt beside Mik, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Mik bowed his head forward into his lap, his entire body shaking with sobs.

“It-“ Keith’s throat closed up, and he swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. Hermes . . . he just sucks like that.”

Mik didn’t respond. With a sigh, Keith took his elbow and stood, pulling Mik with him. He pulled Mik close, hugging him as tightly as he could. Mik buried his face in Keith’s shoulder, clutching at his robes and sobbing, hard and hiccupy and loud.

It took a long time for him to get himself under control. Keith wondered if he’d ever had a chance to cry it out, other than in the immediate after. He pressed a hand to the back of Mik’s head and his face into Mik’s shoulder as well, hoping to help him feel a little safer, a little more secure. After a few minutes, Mik quieted, and just let Keith hold him. They stayed like that for a bit, the occasional leftover sob wracking Mik’s body and his hands fisting Keith’s robes.

Keith realized, rather suddenly, that his shoulder wasn’t the only part of his robes that was wet. All of him was, actually. There was a light rain falling around them, with droplets clinging to his hair, slowly soaking it. The plants all over the garden were wilted, and dripping with raindrops, like they were crying too. Keith hadn’t known that Mik could do this, and he was both impressed and baffled as to how it was raining in a place with no sky or clouds.

Mik took a deep, shuddering breath and peeled himself away from Keith. “Sorr- I- thanks,” he said, voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to, uh . . .” He glanced around them and blushed. “Oops.”

Keith chuckled weakly. “How did you do it?”

He got a watery smile. “I, uh . . . I don’t know. It rains when I’m sad. I don’t have a lot of control over it. Sorry. I’ll-“ He waved his hand, and the rain stopped, leaving them wet and shivering. Keith would be the first to admit that his kingdom was unnecessarily cold.

“You, um,” he stammered. “Do you want to get something, uh, warm on?”

Mik laughed, and a weight lifted off of Keith’s chest. “It is kind of cold here, isn’t it? Sorry. Uh, let me-“ He put a hand on Keith’s chest. Keith flinched and tried to pull away, but Mik said, “Wait.”

Slowly, warmth seeped from Mik’s hand and into Keith’s chest. It spread through him, heating him until even his feet weren’t cold anymore, and they were _always_ cold.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That’s, um . . .”

Mik blushed again. “I- sorry. Was that weird?”

“No,” Keith said quickly. “No, that wasn’t weird at, um . . .” He got distracted by pretty, if bloodshot, eyes. “Um, not weird at all.”

Mik’s mouth twitched into an almost-smile. “And, um, sorry. About freaking out so much. And hiding. I just- couldn’t face him. And I thought-“

“Look- it’s fine.” Keith managed to stop himself before he could add a ‘hon’ after that ‘look,’ which. Would have been a disaster of epic proportions, but. A problem for another time. “Venting is good for you. And you shouldn’t have to see Hermes,” he spat the name like it tasted vile, “if you don’t want to. I would have freaked out too, if it were me.”

“It’s just-“ Mik seemed a little lost for words. It was strange. He was rarely ever short for words, just breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Thank you.”

Keith nodded. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about Hermes. As long as you’re here, I’ll see to it that you never have to see him again.”

Mik smiled weakly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mik smiled a bit bigger, and the way he was looking at Keith was messing with his head. “Thanks, man.”

The added word felt more like a punch in the chest than it should have to Keith, a reminder that he was just setting himself up for heartbreak by letting this happen. But he couldn’t help it. Everything about Mik just made him fall harder for him.

“Yeah,” he said, worried it sounded strained.

If it was, Mik didn’t seem to notice. “I’m, um . . .” He looked around and gestured at the garden. “I’ll clean this up, I guess. I didn’t mean to, uh . . .”

Keith chuckled. “It’s fine. The place could use a good watering once in a while.”

Mik nodded absently, already reviving Keith’s favorite pomegranate tree.

“Mikragori?” The full name felt odd, but not bad, on Keith’s tongue.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“You were wrong,” Keith said. “Gods . . . they can care. Just as much as mortals. Trust me.”

Mik flushed. “Um.”

Keith’s face went hot. “I have to go.” He turned and swept away, trying not to trip or look back or turn around and say ‘Me, I care, I care about you so, so much, I don’t know what to do.’ He realized too late that walking wasn’t necessary and he didn’t have to feel Mik’s gaze boring into his back, but couldn’t do anything about that. He just hoped Mik wouldn’t read into what he’d said too much.

***

Hermes returned the next day, and the next, and the next, until Keith told him not to come back while making a show of his helm of darkness and Cerberus’s fangs. That managed to scare him off, but Mik was still uneasy.

“What about when Zeus caves?” he asked more than once. “My mother is persistent, and he has no willpower. She’ll persuade him to order you to send me back. What- what then?” Keith never knew how to answer. That worried him too. He didn’t know how to stand up to his brother. He’d never had to.

The Underworld, however, became a brighter, nicer place. Maybe it was Mik’s presence, definitely the plants that just started growing everywhere, but the place wasn’t so dreary anymore. Mik didn’t even always mean to do it, sometimes he’d just smile and a patch of flowers would burst through the stone somewhere near his feet. Since they’d talked, Mik was still tense, but less so, and Keith was getting an idea of what it meant to live with someone like him.

It meant waking up to vines tangling his legs and Mik loudly singing a wake-up song of his own invention – never the same song twice, and always made up on the spot. It was terrible every time. Keith loved it.

It meant that when Mik laughed, flowers would inevitably crack the floor and climb their legs. It was especially bad when they were thorny, but Keith couldn’t mind, because Mik was happy.

It meant meals taking a lot longer than they should because conversation distracted them from their food, to the point that they’d have to have the servants reheat it.

It meant becoming pretty much nose-blind to the smell of flowers, it meant practically living in a garden, it meant bright smiles and lovely laughs and seeing Mik’s tenderness toward plants every day. It meant that no matter how hard Keith tried (not that he tried very hard), he couldn’t help falling harder for Mik every day. The boy was sweet, handsome, funny, precious. Perfect until it hurt.

And oh, to be the reason for his laughter! To make him grin was easy, but to make Mik laugh was the most satisfying feeling Keith had ever encountered. He laid awake at night, thinking about Mik’s laugh, his smile, his beautiful stormy eyes, his kindness, his worry, his fear. He already often couldn’t sleep, and pining after and worrying about his friend didn’t help at all.

It was one of those nights, when he couldn’t sleep and was lying on his back, wondering for the millionth time what Mik would think if Keith told him his true feelings, that he was disturbed by what sounded like a gasp from Mik’s room. After a few seconds, a second, smaller. Like a sob. Then another, and another, until small, quiet sobs seeped through the hall, to Keith’s ears, to his heart. Should he go check on Mik? Or would that just embarrass him?

They sounded muffled, like Mik was trying as hard as he could to be quiet.

Keith got up.

He looked into Mik’s room. He’d been right; Mik was curled into a tight ball, covering his face and mouth to muffle his sobs.

Keith knelt by his bed and laid a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Hey, Mik.”

Mik jerked away and looked up at him, his face red and tearful and scared. “Keith,” he croaked. “I-“ He broke off, like he didn’t know what to say. Keith didn’t blame him. He’d be lost too, if he were him.

“You all right?” he asked gently.

Mik nodded, wiping at his face, then stopped. “N-no.” He looked miserable.

Without thinking, Keith wiped some of the tears off of Mik’s cheek. He felt his face go warm, but pretended nothing had happened. “What is it?”

Mik cringed away, and Keith felt hollow. “I- it’s-“ He swiped again at his face and rolled over, his back to Keith. “It’s nothing. I’m- fine. Go back to bed.”

Keith did not want to go back to bed. He wanted to crawl into bed with Mik and hold him until everything was better. He wanted to whisper words of reassurance into his ear until he believed that they were true, that everything would be alright. He wanted to build a perfect world where nothing could hurt Mik ever again. But he couldn’t do those things. So he decided to do what he could.

He grabbed Mik’s shoulder and pulled him onto his back, moving up so they could look into each other’s faces. “No.”

Mik’s eyes widened, then he scowled. “Leave me alone.”

“No.”

“You don’t- you don’t know me. You don’t get to- I don’t want you to-“

“Do you want a hug?”

Mik seemed so taken aback by the question that it shut him up. After a moment, he nodded and sat up.

Hugging him felt nice. That shouldn’t have been what Keith thought, but he couldn’t help it. Mik’s face pressed into his shoulder, Keith’s arms steady and firm around him, he swore he could feel their heartbeats syncing.

Mik took a deep breath and shifted, resting his cheek on Keith’s shoulder, which put his face almost right against his neck. His breath was warm, but it made Keith shiver. He traced his fingers lightly through Mik’s hair and Mik sighed. He was so warm . . .

After a minute, Mik pulled back. Keith immediately missed the feeling, but said nothing. Like always. “Thanks. Um, sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .” Mik rubbed at his neck awkwardly. “You know, wake you up.”

“Oh.” That was what he was worried about? Keith cursed himself for the fond tightness in his chest. “You didn’t. I-I was already awake.”

Mik looked down, embarrassed. “Well, then sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine. Keith put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you . . . do you want to talk about it?”

Mik blinked at him. “You just said- oh. You mean . . .” He looked down. “Not really. I’m fine now, really. It was nothing.”

“Obviously not.” Keith meant for the words to sound accusatory, he really did, but they came out sounding more tender than he ever remembered sounding.

“It was. Really. Just- just a dream.”

_Leave me alone. You don’t know me. You don’t get to-_

Keith decided not to push it. “Okay. If- if you say so. Do you . . .” He thought he’d go out on a limb though. “Do you want some company? We don’t- we don’t have to talk about it or anything, we could just . . .”

Mik smiled tiredly. “Sure. That sounds nice.” He leaned against the wall, and Keith moved over next to him.

“Mmm.” Mik sighed deeply, and leaned against Keith’s shoulder. “Tell me something. I don’t care what.”

_You are my favorite person in the universe. You make me happy just by being around. I think I’m falling in-_

“Hmm. I, uh . . . I like blue?”

Mik looked up at him. “Yeah? Is that your favorite color?”

_Enchanting eyes. They held Keith captive and made him question everything. Bluer than the sky itself, and deeper than any ocean._

“Yeah,” Keith said softly. “Like the top of the sky. Where it’s all darker than the rest. That’s my favorite.”

“Nice. That one suits you. I like too many colors to pick a favorite. Yellow, maybe. Soft, buttercup yellow.”

“What do you mean? By ‘that one suits you.’”

“Oh, just, you seem dark blue. I don’t know, people are colors. Usually their favorite is the color that they are. I’m yellow, you’re dark blue, my mother’s, like, a nice golden green or something. It’s fun to guess.”

Keith had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded nice. “Does anything else influence that?”

“Well, your favorite color is usually a reflection of your color. You know? Like, what you like is a part of you, so most people’s favorite things have a connection to the color they are.”

“Cool.” Keith decided not to overthink that.

Mik smiled and settled back onto Keith’s shoulder. “Yeah. What about flowers? Do you have a favorite kind?”

***

Keith woke up not remembering falling asleep. He realized after a few fuzzy moments that he was still in Mik’s room, on Mik’s bed, with-

He was lying on his back with Mik draped across him, his head on Keith’s chest. His head gently rose and fell with Keith’s breathing. Keith’s heart started beating faster, but he didn’t dare move, for fear of waking the lovely boy sleeping on him.

After what felt like forever, yet nowhere near long enough, Mik started to stir. Keith realized his fingers were twined in his hair and pulled them away.

Mik lifted his head sleepily. “Mmm . . .” He rubbed at his eyes, then froze. His gaze, still blurry with sleep, snapped to-

“Keith?” Mik’s face colored as he rubbed some more at his eyes. “What . . .?”

“Umm . . .” What could he say? This was weird, there was no pretending it wasn’t. “Good . . . good morning?”

Mik pushed himself off of Keith. “Sorry- I-“

Keith chuckled despite himself. “Guess we fell asleep.”

Mik’s face turned an even deeper pink. “Um, I-“

Keith wanted to kiss him. His hand was actually halfway to Mik’s neck before he could stop himself. He was just so _cute,_ he needed to stop being so _cute,_ and looking all sleepy and embarrassed like that, he was damned near impossible to resist. Keith _wanted._

He scratched at the side of his head with another chuckle. “You hungry?” He was.

Mik swallowed, then got up. He ducked his head, not meeting Keith’s eyes. “Yeah. Um, yeah. Food. Sounds . . . good. Yeah.”

Keith’s mouth twitched. He sat up, stretching with a _bit_ more vigor than was strictly necessary and groaning. He thought he heard Mik say something, but when he looked at him, he was still trying to keep his eyes on his feet. “Then,” he said, standing up and bending backwards to ease the tension in his back, “let’s go get something to eat, shall we?”

And that was the end of that.

***

They spent even more time together after that, talking about anything, everything, nothing. Keith learned that Mik’s favorite smell was the earth after rain, an odor he called ‘petrichor.’ He learned that Mik liked roses little, ruffled flowers better, and fragrant yellow climbing flowers best. He learned that flower nectar tasted amazing, almost like the real stuff, that Mik could sing and sing very, very well when he felt like it, that he was also perfectly capable of dressing himself in plants if he so desired, that that was incredibly attractive, and that he was even more hopelessly gone for this fascinating and wonderful boy than he’d been even just a few days before.

He learned that some mortals made strange requests.

He learned this because of a day when Mik stopped talking to him mid-conversation, his words trailing off and his gaze unfocusing. “Mik?” he’d asked, but Mik wasn’t listening to him anymore. And after a moment, he disappeared entirely.

This freaked Keith out just a little. “Mik?!” No response. “Mik!” He scanned his vision around the palace, but Mik clearly wasn’t there. Shaken, Keith realized that all he could do was wait.

And so he waited, management forgotten, for what felt like hours, but was probably less than one. When Mik finally reappeared, with a strange smile on his face, Keith nearly jumped him.

“Lord Zeus, where have you been?” he tried not to shout, though it came out fairly loudly anyway. “You didn’t say anything! Where did you go?”

Mik cringed, smile fading. “Sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just . . . sorry.”

Keith immediately felt bad. “It’s fine, really. Sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you, that just, uh . . . caught me off guard. Maybe throw out a warning next time?”

The blue-eyed god’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll do that.”

Keith flopped down onto his throne, or at least, sat down in a manner as close to flopping as possible without cracking his skull open. “Where’d you even go?” he asked.

Mik’s eyes took on a faraway look. “I . . . got a strange prayer.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said, “it wasn’t anything I’d ever expect a mortal to want at a time like this.” He bit his lip pensively.

“What was it?”

Mik pursed his lips. “She wanted me to bless her flowers.”

Keith blinked. “To what now?”

“Make them grow. I know, it’s weird, why flowers? But that’s what she wanted.” He sat on the floor next to Keith’s throne. “So I went to see what was up. And that was it. That- was all. She just wanted a pretty garden.

“’Are you sure about that?’ I asked her. ‘Flowers won’t do you any good. My mother is the one who can help you.’

“But she said no. ‘Demeter has done nothing for anyone in months. She answers no prayers, nothing changes, no matter how devout people are. It doesn’t matter what we do, so I thought, at least I can have a pretty garden in the midst of all this suffering.’ That’s what she said to me. So I did it. I made the flowers grow and bloom, made sure they’d stay that way. She thanked me, promised to sacrifice at the temple next chance she gets. I told her that’s not necessary right now, but she insisted. So . . .” He trailed off, meeting Keith’s eyes. “Weird, huh? I don’t know what to make of it.”

Keith hummed in agreement. “I’ve never heard of such priorities in mortals before,” he said. “But she sounds nice.”

“She was.” Mik rubbed at his hair and looked up at Keith, who had his third gay panic of the day. “I wonder . . .” He hesitated, reconsidering his words. “Nevermind. What did you do while I was gone?”

Keith blinked at the sudden change of subject, wondering what Mik had been about to say. “Um. Not, ah, much. Mostly . . . waited.”

Mik’s mouth twitched. “Just waited? I worry you that much?” The amusement in his expression was ambrosia for the soul.

“Well,” Keith said, deciding to try for a laugh, “more like worried for whoever you were talking the ear off of.”

Mik chuckled, but it wasn’t real. “Heh. Yeah.” Instead of warming Keith to his core, the sound just made him feel hollow. Mik looked more uncomfortable than Keith could ever remember him looking.

Keith immediately felt horrible, remembering the passing comments Mik had made the day they met, about being told he talked too much. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mik flushed. “It’s fine,” he said, not looking fine.

“No, I-“ Keith felt stupid. “I, um. I meant- I just meant that-“

“It’s fine, really,” Mik cut in. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I only meant- like, it takes some stamina to keep up with you. You’re so– energetic, it’s just- hard, sometimes, not to just- just tune out and listen to the sound of your voice.”

Mik’s eyes widened a little, and his fading blush made a return. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. I do that sometimes – I don’t mean to, it just happens – and then I remember that this is a conversation, so I try to pay attention, but at that point I’m completely lost, and um.” Rambling, Keith, stop rambling. “That’s, uh, why I look at you funny so much, because that happens. I don’t mind it, but it makes me feel bad, like I’m not a good friend, so I try to listen well, but you go so fast it’s a little hard, is all. Uh.” Dammit. Mik was blushing a lot more now, eyes locked on Keith. Keith swallowed. “Yeah. I love how much you talk. Don’t ever feel bad about it.” Mik’s blush spread down his neck.

Keith figured it was about time he changed the subject before Mik caught fire. “Anyway,” he coughed, “I’m sorry I said it like that. It was . . . stupid, and-“

Mik rested a hand on Keith’s foot, and Keith shut up. “Thank you,” he said in an odd, soft voice. “I . . . I like how you always keep whatever I give you, or- or make time to talk to me, or remember things I said ages ago. You- you know, little things.” He grinned shyly, looking down for a moment, then back up. “Like yesterday, when you made sure I didn’t have any beef, even though that’s what you were having, and, I don’t know, you pay attention to me. To what I care about, what I like, and you remember it. I- I love that about you.”

Keith’s breath snagged in his throat, probably on his heart. Judging from the heat in his face and neck, he was even redder than Mik, and he couldn’t have torn his eyes away from those blue ones if his life depended on it.

He leaned down, resting his forearms on his knees. Mik tensed, but didn’t pull back, didn’t even take his hand off of Keith’s foot. He had freckles, Keith noticed. How hadn’t he before? They spattered across his face like stars. He wanted- to kiss them. All of them. Count them as he kissed each and every freckle on his face. He WANTED-

For a moment, there was nothing, nothing but two gods staring at each other, breathing, looking, hearts pounding. Then, one of them shifted ever-so-slightly forward, and Keith-

Keith couldn’t look away from Mik’s lips, couldn’t stop his heart from beating so hard that Mik could probably hear it, couldn’t steady his breathing, couldn’t quell the desire to embrace, to touch, to kiss-

“K-Keith?” Mik’s voice was quiet, husky. It sent a shiver up Keith’s spine.

He swallowed. “Yeah?” The word came out a whisper because his throat was so tight. He couldn’t move.

Mik didn’t say anything, like he didn’t know what he was trying to ask. Keith didn’t either.

A moment passed, then another. Both of them stayed frozen, staring at each other.

A scream echoed though the palace, loud and sudden. Keith sat up sharply, as did Mik, not looking for the source – it was just a wraith – but shaken from their moment.

Mik coughed. His eyes looked funny. Like his heart was still racing too.

Keith nudged at him with his foot. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat didn’t work. He cleared it. “Hm. You’ve got enough freckles to make a dozen constellations. Just on your face.”

Mik huffed, rubbing at his still-red cheeks. “Shut up. You should get back to work.”

Oh. Keith realized that he hadn’t done a thing for . . . way too long. Oops.

He stood, offering Mik a hand. The other god took it, held on a moment too long, shook himself. “I’ll, uh . . . be in the gardens. Or my room. S-somewhere.” Keith nodded, and Mik was gone.

As soon as he was, Keith allowed the enormity of what had just happened to wash over him. “Oh, Hera help me,” he whispered. Then allowed himself to consider- to think about- how- how Mik had felt something too. How he must have, his expression, his stillness, his dark eyes locked on Keith’s . . .

Clapping his hands over his eyes, Keith threw his head back and groaned. He’d almost- he’d nearly- and Mik had almost- had looked like he wanted to-

How was he supposed to handle this?

***

“You’re kidding. You’re making that up.”

“No, why? You disagree?”

“Um, yes? Obviously? How can you _not_ think dogs are superior? You have a dog!”

“I’d have cats too, if Cerberus didn’t always scare them away.”

“But why? Dogs are better!”

“They’re equal. They just show their love differently. Besides, did I seriously strike you as _not_ being a cat person?”

“Um, yes? Because dogs are better?”

“Mik, if that’s your only argument, then I’m going to declare this one a win.”

“No way! Cat lovers are cold, and know nothing of the sheer- sheer-“ Mik jumped up and down, waving his hands and shaking his entire body. Keith had to admit, he was doing a pretty good – and pretty convincing – imitation of an excited puppy.

“Joy?” he supplied.

“Yes, joy! Cat lovers know nothing of the sheer joy of dogs.”

“Except I do? I have a dog? I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish here?” That was a lie, Keith understood perfectly, just disagreed, but Mik was getting so excited and passionate that he couldn’t help but goad him a little.

“But- I- oh!”

***

Keith dreamt of Mik, in bright, burning blue, in starry eyes and bright laughs and sweet smiles and kisses, so many kisses, because when he dreamed about Mik, Mik felt the same way about him, and Mik held his hand and whispered in his ear and made him laugh and kissed him, kissed him a lot, called him ‘darling,’ held him close, talked on and on and on about nothing and everything until Keith ached with adoration, pulled on Keith’s robe and hooked their legs together so that Keith was on top of him and yet the one trapped, kissed him senseless, kissed him dizzy, kissed him and held him until the world blurred away and their troubles were gone, whispered soft things to Keith that Keith didn’t dare let himself think, whispered soft things and sweet things and firy things, hot things, exciting things, scary things, beautiful things, whispered and held him close and kissed every part of him, and Keith kissed his freckles, kissed his nose, kissed his eyelids, his neck, his chest right above his heart, cherished him, adored him, l-

Until, of course, he woke up.

***

Mik left more and more often, attending to prayers in person rather than from afar. He came back looking tired, depressed, even. This worried Keith, but Mik assured him that he was fine.

“It’s just sad,” he’d say, “seeing all those starving faces, asking me for help because they can’t get any from my mother.”

Keith understood, or tried to, but it was . . . hard. Hard to see Mik so sad, hard to keep himself from doing something stupid like hug him again, hard to resist the temptation to find and fight Demeter until she put an end to this nonsense. Especially on days when Mik retreated to the gardens. That usually meant he’d encountered death.

But – it was strange – talking to Keith seemed to help. Maybe it was just the talking, about anything else, talking so he wouldn’t dwell too long on it, maybe because conversation energized him, or maybe . . .

Keith never even let that thought fill itself out.

***

Heavy eyelids.

“What do you think happens to us if we die?”

Hoarse voices.

“I don’t know. I’ve never considered it a possibility.”

Slow, deep breaths.

“Do we just . . . cease? To exist? Or is there something for us too? Some sort of afterlife?”

Warm bodies.

“I’m not sure we can die at all. No god ever has.”

Quiet . . .

“But does that mean we can’t? Or just that no one’s ever tried hard enough?”

Warm . . .

“Do we have a limit? Or are we just . . . always?”

Peace . . .

***

“Wait, it’s been how long?”

“I’ve lost track, I’ll be honest.”

“How do you lose track of how long it’s been since you’ve felt the sun on your face? It was driving me crazy, not getting that every day!”

Sorry, what? “Wait, really? I don’t- look, Mik, you can go to the mortal realm and get some sunshine whenever you want, you know. I’m not– not keeping you from it.”

“Well, yeah,” Mik flushed and met Keith’s eyes, “but that’s more time I don’t get to spend with you.”

“. . .” Dead. Keith was dead. Come get me Thanatos, I’m ready.

“That- so?” And of course his voice cracked. Of course. Nothing could ever be easy. He could feel his ears getting hot already.

Mik flushed darker. “Um, yeah. I mean, that sounds lame, but. I-I love spending time with you.”

Dammit. Deader than the oldest shade in the Underworld.

Oh. There was a thought.

“Well, then maybe we should go out together. Get some sun, let Cerberus stretch his legs.” Wait. Wait a second wait oh no that sounds like you mean a-

“Like- like a date?” Mik’s cheeks and neck were such a deep pink it looked like it was fake. Like he’d been painted.

Warmth flooded through Keith, but no, no, dammit-

“Um. If- I don’t know. It doesn’t- have to be. If you don’t want it to.” Mik _wilted,_ almost imperceptibly, but Keith saw it. Saw it, and decided to be brave.

“But if- if you do want it to be – a date, that is – it could be. If you want. It’s- up to you.”

Those precious freckles were visible again, but still blurred with pink. “Uh . . . yes. I- I would. Like it to be a date. If you want.”

Keith smiled. “I do.” He wondered, for the millionth time, how he could be so open with someone, when he’d never been able to be before. Feelings had always screwed with him, always made his tongue lock and his throat close and his palms sweat. Had always scared him into stony silence rather than speaking them. But this . . . this was different. Even from the time he thought he had a crush on Hecate. (He didn’t. That was actually how he’d finally figured out that he was gay.) He was . . . free. Open, eager, even, to being explored, to being known, to being-

Maybe not that word yet. Not just yet. Too soon.

But maybe.

He held out a hand, and Mik took it. “Then let’s go.”

***

For a while, they walked in silence. They didn’t have anything to say; the sunshine that didn’t warm their faces and the dry grass that crunched under their feet made the mood somber.

But one of them had to speak up. This was a- a-

Keith still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

He glanced down at their hands, hesitantly intertwined. He swore his hand was tingling, at least when he thought about the contact with Mik’s skin. He was so- so warm, so soft, so- perfect.

Mik exhaled softly. “So . . .” His voice was cautious, like he was as nervous as Keith was. “So, we, uh . . .” He coughed, cleared his throat, and tried again. “So you . . . like me?” He looked at Keith with big blue eyes and silky brown eyelashes and those freckles spattered across his nose and cheeks and Keith thought he might burst. “Like . . . as something more? Than friends?” He seemed so different than usual, less animated, less . . . confident.

Keith took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said softly. “I do. And . . .” Even the thought of asking made him feel ill, but what was he supposed to do, not? He HAD to. “And do you?”

Mik looked at him for a long time. Not angrily, or nervously or anything, just . . . studying him. “I . . . well . . .” His gaze fell to their hands, and his twitched in Keith’s. He took a deep breath.

“Yes.” Keith’s breath hitched and his feet stilled. Mik’s did too. “I do. I- like you. And not as a friend.” Keith didn’t think he could breathe. “Wait, no, I mean-“

“I know,” Keith said gently. “I know what you mean.”

For a long minute, neither of them spoke, just stared at each other. Then Mik inhaled deeply. “I-“ He paused.

“Yes?”

Mik frowned, not looking at Keith anymore. “Do you hear that?”

Keith blinked, listened. At first, he heard nothing, but after a moment picked up on a high, thin cry, like a child’s. “What is that?”

Mik’s frown deepened. “I know this place. Look.” He pointed to the edge of the trees, where Keith could make out the very outside edge of a village. “I’ve been there. Not even very long ago. I blessed them with flowering greens that they could eat for a while. What’s . . . what’s going on?”

Another wail pierced the air, louder than before. “Maybe you should see,” Keith said with a frown.

Mik nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll . . .” He met Keith’s eyes. “Maybe you should stay here. God of the dead and all, you know . . .” He bit at the inside of his cheek nervously, like he was suddenly afraid of offending Keith.

Keith rested a hand on his shoulder. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll wait here.”

Mik nodded, hesitated for an instant, made a funny movement toward Keith that he immediately took back, nodded again, and ran off toward the sound of the weeping child.

 _Was he always so serious?_ Keith wondered. Was he growing from a happy-go-lucky boy to a focused and kind-hearted god, or had Keith just never seen this side of him show itself so prevalently before? _Mik is . . . something else,_ he thought.

Mik. Mikragori. Little boy. How could _that_ be his name? How could anyone be so blind as to name him so carelessly? Demeter was a fool, her son was kind, and wise, and good, and well-deserving of a far better name than _Mikragori._ He was grown, no child.

Worry wasn’t the reason that Keith felt the need to know what he was doing. He didn’t need help. But Keith still wanted to see. So he cloaked himself in shadow and, invisible, marched off in the direction that Mik had gone.

He found him carrying a small girl into the village, murmuring comfortingly to her. A runaway, maybe? She had tear streaks on her blotchy, red face.

Keith couldn’t hear what people were saying, but he could tell that the woman Mik handed the girl to was relieved to see her. Mik asked her a question, and she answered. He frowned and asked another. She answered, and he scowled. Another question. Another answer. A deeper scowl. Keith frowned too. He needed to get closer.

He crept nearer until he could hear Mik ask, “How long has this been going on?”

The woman bowed her head in sorrow. “Days. Nearly a moon.”

“A moon?!”

She cringed. “As long as it’s been since you blessed us. It started only a few days later.”

Mik stepped back, grinding his teeth and looking furious. He turned on the spot a couple of times, rubbed his forehead. “Alright,” he finally said, “alright. Yeah. That’s not- look, is there anyone, like, running this? A specific person? Or is it- is it everyone?”

“Oh, it’s one man, mainly. He’s been . . . hoarding the greens. Stealing them from people, going out at all hours to make sure he’s the only one who has any, then selling them-“

“Selling?!” Mik exploded. “Selling? Violently robbing people just to sell it back?!”

The woman ducked her head. “Yes,” she said. “And tow days ago, he . . . my daughter attempted to steal from him, because he refused to sell at a price we could pay, and he-“ She choked, bringing a hand up to muffle her sobs. “I’m sorry, I-“ The girl in her arms began to cry too, squirming until her mother nearly dropped her, and Mik took her gently. He shushed her softly, eyes widening when she threw her arms around his neck.

“He- he dumped her b-body outside. As a warning, he said.” The woman was trembling so hard Keith wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand.

Mik was angry. Keith had never seen him so angry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen him angry at all, but now, he was practically vibrating, but still being careful with the child in his arms. He inhaled slowly, exhaled even more so. “Take me to him,” he said, a frighteningly calm expression on his face.

***

How long had it been since Keith had walked among mortals? He of all the gods had an especially difficult time thinking about them, remembering that their lives were so short, appreciating the significance of a death at thirty instead of sixty. When one’s entire existence is spent on a throne, doling out punishment, or else renovating, the lives of mortals stop seeming significant at all. It had been so long since he’d felt the desire to engage with them, it was strange to walk through an entire village of them, and to be literally invisible to them at that.

Not a single villager so much as looked his way as he followed Mik toward the self-elected leader’s house. Their attention was focused on the handsome young god marching with a confidence and authority that drew them like honey drew flies. They started following him, the group of five growing to a small procession, to a crowd consisting of almost the entire population.

The procession halted in front of a house in the middle of the village. The people were chattering, but when Mik held up a hand, silence fell faster than on Olympus when Keith entered the throne room, which was, honestly, frustratingly quickly. Mik turned to the woman he’d spoken with on the edge of the village and asked her something. She replied, and he handed her the child and stepped forward, visibly showing himself to be the one in charge.

Was he taller? It was hard to tell from this distance, but he was clearly visible, even over the crowd. He was already tall, of course, but so were several of the villagers, and Keith had no trouble seeing him. Perhaps he was. Good for him, Keith thought, figuring out the tricks of intimidation.

“Iasiches!” Mik about bellowed. “We have words with you!”

Nothing happened. What arrogance, Keith thought. To brush people off without so much as looking at them.

“IASICHES!” Mik truly did bellow this time. “By the order of the gods, come out!”

Still the man did not emerge. Keith was pretty irritated at this point, and he wondered how much more angry Mik must be. He already had little respect among the gods, but to be dismissed so by a mortal . . .

Mik drew in a deep breath. “This is your last warning, Iasiches! Come out and face your victims!”

Iasiches did not come out. Keith was disgusted. Mik was incensed.

Clouds rolled in out of nowhere, darkening the sky alarmingly quickly. Mik raised his hand sharply, and vines ripped themselves from the earth and started an assault on Iasiches’s house as rain started to pour.

The vines thickened and grew in number as they twisted into every crevice they could find. It was only a moment before they ripped the door off entirely. Vines and more vines, bursting with hot pink and red flowers, plunged into the now empty doorway.

After a few seconds, a scream pierced the air. Then another, this one a drawn-out, terrified shriek that lasted until the vines dragged the screamer out into the open. He writhed and wailed in fear, but, even from a distance, Keith could see a cold neutrality on Mik’s face. It was jarring; Keith was used to Mik being gentle and kind. He was usually the violent one, not the flower god of spring.

But now Mik was cold and angry, he was scary, he was incredible. Keith watched in awe as Mik flung Iasiches unceremoniously onto the ground in front of the entire village. The man stood, visibly trying to stop trembling. Keith moved closer, slipping between the villagers until he was close enough to see and hear clearly. He was glad he did.

“Iasiches!” Mik bellowed again. “You stand accused of theft, extortion, and murder. Your victims are witnesses against you. What have you to say?”

Iasiches, still trembling, only whimpered. Mik scoffed. “You disgust me. Are you guilty?”

The pitiful man squeaked as the vines that were twisting menacingly around him started to twine around his ankles. “No!” he yelped. “No! I- I did nothing! I-“

Mik interrupted him. “You dare lie to me?” He did not shout. He didn’t need to. His voice carried, and was commanding enough that there was no talking over him. “Are you so arrogant as to think that you can?”

Iasiches groveled. “N-no, of course not, m-my lord, I would never-“

“No,” Mik cut in. “Unless, of course, it were to save your own skin, right?”

“No!” Iasiches cried. “No, my lord, no, I would never- please, have mercy on me! I meant no harm!”

Mik’s face darkened. “Where are they?” he asked quietly.

“Wh- my lord?”

“WHERE ARE THEY?!” The vines around Iasiches’s ankles tightened and crawled higher. “WHERE?! I BLESSED THIS VILLAGE! WHERE IS MY BLESSING?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BLESSING?!”

Iasiches was in tears now. “I-I’m sorry, my l-lord. The greens are here, in m-my house. Take them. Please, j-just take them and let me g-go. Please, I-“

Mik raised his hand and Iasiches went quiet. “You killed a child for greed. What do you have to say to her mother?” He was almost gentle, giving the man a chance. He gestured to the woman, who was still holding her sniffling daughter. She stepped forward. Iasiches met her eyes, and his trembling and sniveling stopped. It was as though Mik wasn’t even there.

Perhaps he believed himself to be beyond saving. Perhaps he was simply stupid beyond belief. Perhaps, perhaps. There was no knowing his reasoning. Keith would only ever know what he did.

What he did was sneer. What he did was look at the woman with the contempt the rich hold for the poor. What he did was snarl, “I would do it again.”

The woman wailed with rage and pain. Mik was clearly shocked. He’d thought, Keith could tell, that Iasiches would repent. That he would apologize.

“Then perish,” Mik said almost sadly. Iasiches was suddenly afraid again, begging and pleading as he grappled with the vines, but there was no stopping them. They twisted tighter and tighter around him, huge flowers blooming before everyone’s eyes. Iasiches screamed pitifully, but Mik only hardened. “You will face death and judgement. You will answer for your crimes. Begone.” A thick root wriggled free of the writhing mess and hovered for a moment in front of the sobbing man who was nearly invisible now. Then, quite suddenly, it lunged forward and ran Iasiches through.

The longest moment of Keith’s life passed. Then, slowly, respectfully, the vines shrank until the body was lying on the ground. Still wound around him, they drew back into the earth, taking Iasiches with them. In seconds, there was no sign of him or the vines except for disrupted earth.

There was a very long silence. As the rain slowed to a stop and the clouds started to dissipate, everyone stared at Mik in awe. In fear. Keith could feel it, nearly tangible. They respected him. He had earned these mortals’ respect.

Mik seemed to sense this as well. He turned to look at the villagers. He looked, for a moment, tired. But then he put on a fierce face that was half real. “Learn from this!” he shouted. “Your village will be blessed, but this will not happen again. I am not Mikragori. I am not a little boy. I am Lonchi, Lance, god of new growth. I do not forgive quickly, and I do not hesitate to punish harshly. Be good to each other, or face my wrath.”

He wrapped himself in his cloak and was gone. Keith supposed that he was going back to the place they had been, before . . .

Keith’s heart started pounding.

With a wave of his invisible hand, he followed Mik.

***

Keith found Mik calling his name, looking for him. He jogged over to him. “Hey!”

Mik spun around and saw him. “There you are.” They collided with a hug, then separated just as quickly, and Keith grabbed Mik’s hands. “Did you see that?”

Keith laughed. “Yeah, I saw that. Mik, that was incredible.”

Mik blushed. “Y-yeah?” He looked proud of himself, exhilarated.

“Yes,” Keith said. “Yes, Mik. You were amazing.”

Mik frowned. “I-“ He struggled for a moment for words. “I-I don’t want-“ He looked down. “I don’t want- to be Mik. You- you heard what I said? That I’m . . . not a little boy? I’m- I’m Lonchi. I’m . . .”

Keith waited.

“I’m Lance.” He sighed. “I’m more than flowers and springtime. I’m a god. I deserve respect. I deserve a name that commands respect. I’m . . . I’m Lance.”

Keith smiled. He wasn’t surprised at all. Mik – LANCE – wasn’t the first god to change his name. He was hardly the first to rebel against his image. And the name . . . it was nice. It seemed a little violent for Mik – Lance – but at the same time, it suited him.

He squeezed Lance’s hands. “I like it.”

Lance (Keith was liking the name more every minute) grinned. “Good.” He shifted forward on his feet, then rolled back on his heels. “I-“ He looked suddenly bashful, and a part of Keith knew what he was going to say without processing the fact. “I want- to kiss you. Can I . . ?”

“Yes,” Keith said immediately. “Yes.”

And Lance kissed him. And Keith kissed him back. And it was just as wonderful as he had hoped.

***

Keith woke slowly, dreamily, and didn’t hesitate to reach up to Lance’s head on his chest and tangle his fingers in his hair. They had stayed up late, talking about everything and nothing, but this time around, Keith didn’t feel awkward about Lance’s having fallen asleep on him. He felt trusted, and that meant everything.

It was a few quiet minutes before Lance started to stir. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and squirmed, leaning unconsciously into Keith’s touch. “Mmm,” he groaned. He rubbed his face, lifted his head, and looked at Keith with dark, sleepy eyes. “M-mornin-“ He broke off with a yawn and dropped his head back onto Keith’s chest.

“Morning yourself,” Keith said softly, his voice disgustingly fond and tender. “Sleep well?”

Lance grinned sleepily. “Yeah,” he murmured. He moved clumsily toward Keith and pressed his mouth against his.

“Mmm.” Keith tugged gently at his hair and let an arm slip awkwardly around Lance’s waist. They kissed lazily, mouths open and tongues meeting occasionally, to a small noise of satisfaction from one god or the other. Soft, sweet kisses slowly grew a little heated as tongues started exploring a bit, and the noises Lance was making in the back of his throat grew in volume and intensity – turning from sighs to groans to soft, lovely moans that just had Keith getting more into it. He shifted, tugging Lance into a more comfortable position on top of him, and started really going at it, biting carefully at Lance’s lip and letting his hands explore. He went slow at first, just running them up and down his back and sides, but after coaxing a particularly pleasant sound out of him, he permitted his hands to do what they had wanted to do since he’d met Lance and feel that warm brown skin. He slipped them between the folds of Lance’s robes and shivered at the sound Lance made when his fingers finally splayed across his bare back. Keith grew a little more courageous and slid them up to Lance’s shoulder blades, appreciating the muscle he hadn’t known was there.

“Mmm-mmmmm,” Lance groaned into his mouth, and Keith, encouraged, started really roaming. He ran his hands over Lance’s arms, his shoulders, his sides, his back, and, without thinking (his head was a little muddled at the moment), down to his hips and thighs. At this, Lance squeaked and pulled away, flushed bright red and panting.

“I- oh. I’m-“ Keith felt stupid. Kissing made him stupid, apparently. Or maybe Lance in general. Hard to tell.

Lance wasn’t meeting his eyes, and it was sucking a hollow into Keith’s chest. He’d just crossed a boundary, he’d messed something up.

“I-“ He felt helpless. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying-“

“It’s fine.” Lance said it like he didn’t mean it, like he said that Keith didn’t look silly wearing flower crowns Keith had made himself, like he said that he didn’t care when people called him dumb. He said it like he was afraid, like he didn’t know if Keith would be okay with a no, and Keith’s heart broke.

“Lance,” he whispered, but stopped because Lance was _trembling._ Lance was afraid of him. He was afraid that Keith would . . . force him? Hurt him? Mock him? Keith’s eyes stung with tears. Just moments ago he had Lance’s trust in him, and Lance was afraid and shaking and visibly trying not to cry and Keith was going to break apart. “Lance,” he breathed, reaching up to cup his cheek in his hand before realizing that touching him might not be a great idea. “Lance. I’m sorry. Please-“ his voice cracked a little, despite not speaking above a whisper, “I’m- I’m not- oh sweetheart, please don’t be scared, I’m not upset with you, Lance.”

Lance sucked in a breath. “I’m- I’m just- sorry,” he mumbled.

Keith started to interrupt, because Lance should NEVER be sorry about something like this, but Lance spoke over him. “No, listen. I’m not- it’s just- I’ve never- I just- I-“

Keith placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s fine. I’m- I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to do, and it made you uncomfortable. Don’t- you don’t need to be sorry. That was-“

“I’ve just never done this before,” Lance interrupted him. “And I- I’m not sure I’m ready to yet. I mean, I think-“ He stopped. His face had cooled a bit to a more normal appearance, but now it was hot red again. “Um. Yeah. I- I like you. A lot. But I don’t want to- at least not yet-“

Keith brushed a few curls behind Lance’s ear. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to anyway. I don’t think- you know. Not yet.” He rested his hand on Lance’s cheek, and Lance, bless Gaia, leaned into the touch instead of away. “I didn’t mean to- to do that. I got carried away. I’m sorry. I- I’m definitely not upset. At you.”

Lance closed his eyes and was silent for a moment, resting against Keith’s hand. Then, without opening them, he whispered, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Lance opened his eyes, but didn’t look at Keith. “Uh, sorry. For freaking out so much. I should have-“

“No, no. You don’t need-“

“I mean for- for, uh-“ Lance finally met Keith’s gaze. “I should have known. That you would never-“ He sighed. “It just scared me a little. I guess . . .” Frowned. “I guess I felt like I was- was with- but I know that you’re- you’re not-“ Inhaled deeply. “You’re nothing like Hermes. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you were a jerk or something. Because you weren’t. Aren’t. You’re- you know.”

He dropped his head onto Keith’s shoulder and stayed there for a while. Keith didn’t say anything, couldn’t think of anything TO say. So he just combed his fingers through Lance’s hair, trying to stave off the hollow feeling in his chest.

_“I guess I thought I was with- but you’re nothing like Hermes.”_

Consequences be cursed, he was going to tear Hermes limb from limb next time he saw him. He would flay him, hang him by the ankles and tear him to pieces, drown him a thousand times-

“Hey Keith?” Lance’s voice was quiet.

Calm down.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

Oh. So was Keith, now that he thought about it.

“Yeah? Let’s eat then.”

Let’s put this behind us before it breaks me, he didn’t say.

***

“What are you doing?!” Keith couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“What does it look like? I am helping you,” Lance said, balancing precariously on Keith’s throne and reaching uselessly upward.

“I don’t think it counts if the problem is your fault in the first place.” Keith grabbed Lance’s waist to keep him from falling. “Also, it’s not even working.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to apologize?”

“Maybe by not throwing my crown at the ceiling in the first place? Get down.”

Lance clambered off of the throne with a pout. “Well, how are you going to get it then?” He looked at the wall with an expression Keith didn’t like. “Maybe I could climb up . . .”

Keith scowled. “And break your neck in the process. No.”

“But-“

“I’ll figure it out, Lance.” More gently, “It’s just a crown. I’ve got others.”

Lance’s shoulders slumped. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Lance didn’t look convinced. “Really. I don’t care. I’m not mad.” He hesitated, but Lance’s frustration didn’t fade, so he reached out and cupped Lance’s chin tilting it up toward him. “You’re more important than some stupid crown, Lance.”

Breathtakingly beautiful blue eyes filled with tears.

“Oh no- Lance, no, don’t-“

Lance hugged him hard, hugged him tight. He trembled for a moment, then let out a single, jagged sob. Keith embraced him tightly, held him close against his chest.

Lance hugged him so hard it made his arms shake for a minute or two, face tucked into his favorite spot in the crook of Keith’s neck. Keith just held him, pressing the occasional kiss to his hair. How, he wondered, could someone so kind and good come from such meanness? How could he be suppressed and overprotected by his mother, alternately ignored and mocked by his cousins and even his own father, treated like trash by his boyfriend (remembering that passing comment from a few days before made Keith tremble with rage), and be so starved for affection that THIS was his reaction to being told that he was important, and still be . . . Lance? How could he be so loving and kind when it seemed like all he had known was meanness and being smothered? Keith had no idea, but however it had happened, however Lance had managed to keep his kindness, Keith was grateful for it.

Lance finally loosened his death grip on Keith’s shoulders and drew back slightly, staying close enough that their noses almost touched and Keith could feel his warm breath on his lips. Lance blinked rapidly, mouth twitching repeatedly towards a smile. His eyes were a little red, but not really. He was a bit of a mess, but beautiful all the same. What Keith would give for Lance to look at him that way forever . . .

Without even thinking about it, Keith closed the gap between them and kissed him softly. Lance sighed against his mouth and kissed back, arms still slung loosely around Keith’s neck.

Keith kissed him long and sweet, pouring every ounce of affection he had into it, and Lance simply melted in his arms, occasionally grinning so wide that it broke the kiss and left them just staring fondly at each other, only to lean back in for more. He hummed appreciatively when Keith gripped his back, and Keith groaned when Lance gave his hair an experimental tug, prompting Lance to bury his hand deeper into his hair and tug some more.

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed, until they ran out of breath and had to separate, panting and flushed and grinning like fools.

“I really like doing that,” Lance said softly, with a big dopey smile stretching across his face.

“Mmm.” Keith pressed a small kiss to the corner of that smile, then another to his cheek, right on top of a cluster of freckles so close together they looked like one big splotch at a glance. “That’s good. I do too, so you better get used to it.”

Lance’s eyes drifted shut, and he rested his cheek on Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll be glad to.”

They stood there together, slowly swaying to music no one could hear, for a long time.

***

They spent most nights together, sometimes talking for hours, sometimes just holding each other and being together, each reveling in the other’s there-ness. Sometimes they kissed until they couldn’t breathe and sometimes they laughed themselves stupid and sometimes Keith held Lance while he cried himself to sleep. Sometimes one approached the other in the middle of the night, and sometimes they just went to the same bed in an unspoken agreement. Sometimes Lance had nightmares and sometimes Keith couldn’t sleep and having a warm, huggy companion helped with both of those things. Neither ever judged the other, but rather welcomed the company, the embrace, the quiet, heavy, sleepy warmth of another person’s presence in the dark.

***

Lance talked in his sleep more than he thought, mostly babble, not that the coherent made any sense. The first time Keith was drifting off only to be forcibly dragged back to consciousness by a mumbled “Gimme that . . . megran . . . I’ll throw you off a . . . I’ll show you flower boy . . .” was. An experience, to say the least. It became a regular joke between them eventually though, despite the frights they still gave Keith if they woke him up. Lance never could remember enough of his dreams to know what he was talking about.

***

Oh, those freckles. Those precious freckles. They would be the death of Keith. And the way his eyes sparkled when he got excited . . .

He was the most beautiful person in Keith’s life. Not that there were many to begin with, but he was close enough with Hecate that it was a decent compliment. Keith wasn’t stupid enough to compare him to Aphrodite, even mentally, especially since it was literally impossible to compare to her, but. He would choose Lance over anyone, even Eros or Aphrodite (even if he liked women).

That EXCITEMENT. That JOY. Every moment was new and precious to Lance, and Keith? Keith ~~lo-~~ adored him for it. Lance saw every day with new wonder, and Keith had no idea how it made him feel, except . . . full. Warm. It made him feel so _much_ that he sometimes didn’t know what to do with it, with himself, and so he kissed Lance senseless, which seemed to release some of it. Not that Lance EVER minded.

***

It was one of those nights that Lance cried that he opened up to Keith about the . . . other thing that had happened with Hermes. It wasn’t as bad as Keith was thinking, Lance reassured him, but it had made him feel crawly in his skin and nervous around everyone for weeks. He’d been uncomfortable, and he’d had to put a stop to it himself by force, and after, alone, he’d cried and hidden until he stopped shaking, which had taken hours. It was the final straw that made him break up with Hermes. He cried as he told Keith, and Keith cried with him, and neither of them slept well that night. Whenever he thought about it later, Keith hugged Lance tightly, and Lance, knowing what Keith was thinking, hugged him back just as hard. It was hard not to cry when he thought about it, but the only other option was getting so angry he took it out on something else, and he always hated himself when he did that. It took a lot of effort sometimes, but the relief of overcoming such an ugly part of himself was always worth it.

***

Lance was also a squirmy sleeper. He just couldn’t lie still. Keith, thankfully, slept heavily when he could sleep at all, but even he couldn’t manage to sleep through being elbowed in the ribs or kicked in the crotch. Lance was apologetic when he realized, if he woke up, or found out the next morning when Keith had bruises, but that didn’t stop him laughing as he watched Keith hobble.

Keith didn’t mind being the butt of a joke if the joke meant that he got to hold Lance every night.

***

“Sooo . . . like this?”

Keith grinned. “Almost,” he said. He demonstrated again, more slowly. “It’s in the wrist. Move quickly and confidently, but carefully.”

Lance tried it again. Still not great, but better.

Keith nodded. “Good. Now the other side.”

Hairlines were easy enough, probably the simplest part of a basic portrait. And it looked fine. But Lance frowned and shrugged. “Eh. I don’t think it’s my thing. You’re way better at this than I am.”

“No,” Keith said quickly, “yours is good too!” It was not, but he couldn’t just say that. Lance raised an eyebrow at him. Keith’s heart sped up – cut that out, he told it, now isn’t the time – but he elected to ignore it and concede a little. “Okay, you could use some more practice, but it’s . . . not bad, for a beginner.” Also untrue, to be honest. It _was_ okay, but it wasn’t good. At all. It was clear that Lance had never attempted anything more complicated than a child’s stick figure drawing. The picture, which was supposed to be Balthazar, could have been anyone, if there was anyone who looked . . . like that.

“You can say it’s bad.” Lance grinned. “I don’t mind. I’ve got other things I like doing better. I don’t need to be good at drawing.” He looked back at the pitiful drawing on the ground, and then rubbed it out without much thought. Keith almost protested, but Lance spoke first.

“You know, I really enjoyed that. Uh. Date. Or whatever it was. When we went upside?” He was still looking at the ground, but not blushing, surprisingly, just smiling softly. “Other than, uh. That. I know we almost got caught, but. It was nice, seeing the sun. Even if it’s not what I’m used to.” He didn’t leave the Underworld much anymore, as that . . . incident had revealed his patterns and style to Olympus. They really had nearly been caught, an incident like that had drawn the attention of several gods, and Keith and Lance had been very lucky to slip away before anyone else found them there. “I don’t- I never want to leave here.” He looked up at Keith now. “I- this place- and you-“ He flushed, finally, but held Keith’s gaze. “I mean it. I won’t risk being taken away from here. From- from you.” He took Keith’s hand, squeezing it while holding his eyes with such affection that it made Keith feel dizzy. “I just. I miss the sun. I miss the warmth of spring. I wish-“ He looked down.

Keith understood. If only Demeter . . . but no. Wishful thinking was pointless. These were thoughts Lance had voiced before, sometimes much more sadly than now, but Keith knew that the loneliness wasn’t going to go away just by talking about it.

He rubbed Lance’s head, his fingers pressing gentle circles against his scalp. “I know,” he said. That was all. What else was there to say?

Lance leaned heavily on him. “I-“ He twisted to look up at Keith, and Keith let his hand fall to rest against the side of Lance’s neck instead. “I know it’s risky. I know it’s dangerous. But-“

He didn’t need to say it. And how was Keith supposed to deny him anything?

Keith pressed a lingering kiss against Lance’s forehead. “Okay.”

Lance’s eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch. “Really?” His voice was almost a whisper.

Keith nodded. “Yeah. You wanna go now?”

Lance lifted his head, still staring at Keith, but his eyes were back to being as bright and sparkling as they usually were, as they should be. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Yes, please.”

Keith smiled and stood, pulling Lance with him. “Alright.” He offered his arm. Lance grinned (beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word, Keith thought) and took it. “Would you like to bring a snack?”

Lance actually bounced on his toes. “Oh, yes, _please,”_ he said.

Keith’s own smile wasn’t big enough to hurt his cheeks, but it would be soon if Lance didn’t stop being so adorable.

***

“Mmmmm.”

Lance was no waif; it was actually kind of hard for Keith to pin him down if he didn’t want to be, sometimes he even failed. But now Lance didn’t seem to mind being trapped under Keith’s entire weight. He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit, actually. Keith’s mouth moved to his cheek, his jaw, the sensitive spot under his ear. The low groan he let out was. Something. It _did_ things to Keith.

Maybe a few too many things. But Keith couldn’t resist the temptation to trail down Lance’s neck and find another sensitive spot between his collarbone and his neck. THAT noise was high and needy, and Lance scrabbled at Keith’s head, not really pulling on his hair, at least not on purpose, but grabbing fistfuls. Keith sucked at the spot and Lance-

Lance-

He _gasped,_ he _keened,_ his hips jerked, and Keith almost lost every last shred of his self-control right then and there. Thankfully, Lance grabbed at his hair and pulled him off, rapidly moving his hands to Keith’s chest to push him back as he sat up.

Gorgeous. Angelic. Delicious. Hot flushed skin and wide, dark eyes and his red mouth hanging open like he was aching for more as much as Keith was. It took everything not to dive right back in and _take._

“I- oh.” Lance’s voice shook and Keith almost died. “Th-that- mmmm.”

Keith grinned. He felt _so_ good, so warm and full and satisfied, even as he was starving. Hunger could be quieted and made to wait.

Lance reached out with slightly trembling fingers and traced Keith’s face. “That . . . was something.”

Keith leaned into the touch. “Yeah.” He felt a little shaky inside, but in the best way.

“M-“ Lance hesitated. “M-maybe a bit much?” He rested his palm against Keith’s cheek, warm and heavy. “I’m- I don’t know, that was- but it was just- I mean, I liked it, but- well, what I’m trying to say is-“

Keith cut him off with a kiss, short, light, and sweet. “I know,” he said softly. “Sorry.”

Lance kissed him back. “No, you don’t-“ Keith tried to interrupt, but Lance stopped him with a finger to his lips. “I- fine. Forgiven, whatever. But, uh-“ He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Keith held onto the hand that had shushed him and dropped a kiss to its knuckles. Lance flushed an even deeper pink than the lingering color in his cheeks. “Uh, I mean, this was- nice. I like this.” Keith gently pried Lance’s fingers open and pressed his mouth against Lance’s warm palm, not taking his eyes off of him for a moment. “Um. Yeah. Like, I’m not - well, I don’t think I am – uh, ready. For. You-you know. But, uh. I l-like this. I want- can we-“

Keith wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, basically into his lap. “Yes?”

Lance’s eyes were wide and beautiful and full of wonder. “Um. I want to do this again. A l-lot. That is, if you, uh, want to.”

Keith cupped his face in his hands, his skin hot under them. “That sounds great,” he said, and kissed Lance again.

***

Lance sat beside Keith’s throne, wearing Keith’s robes, looking up at Keith as he engaged with spirits and wraiths and the Furies. Every so often, Keith would glance down at him and Lance would _beam,_ and Keith’s energy would be renewed and he would go all warm inside. When he could get away with it and not look like, well, Zeus, he would reach down and touch Lance’s hair, maybe twirl his fingers in it and rub his head, or rest his hand on his shoulder, and Lance would simply preen under his touch, smiling smugly at whoever was there at the time. _Yeah,_ he said with that smile. _You WISH you were me._ It made Keith chuckle every time.

During a lull in activity, Lance grew bold and climbed onto the arm of Keith’s throne, tugged Keith toward him by his robes, and kissed him. Keith made a surprised noise in his throat but didn’t complain. He kissed Lance with vigor, hands landing on his waist to steady him on the narrow marble perch. The angle was awkward because Lance was already taller than Keith, and that difference was increased significantly by their position, but Keith didn’t really mind having to bend his head as far back as he could because he was still. Kissing Lance. Which wasn’t exactly new anymore, but it hadn’t stopped being amazing yet, and Keith doubted that it would for a long time.

Lance managed (somehow) to deepen the kiss and get his tongue involved, and Keith pulled him carefully off of the arm of his throne and into his lap. Lance made a surprised sound but rolled with it, and Keith was grateful for the lesser strain on his neck and the way Lance’s tongue moved with his, hot and sweet and so, _so_ good.

Keith had just about decided that perhaps it was time to call it a day and head back to his or Lance’s room for a nice long kissing session when the sound of voices from the entrance hall interrupted them. Several people, from the sounds of it, and loud too. He could make out Balthazar’s pleading and a few people arguing and someone nearly shouting, and all of it all at once so nothing could be identified.

Frowning, he held on to Lance’s waist for support as Lance climbed rapidly off of him and then stood himself. He didn’t like the pinched, wary look Lance had. “You should go. To the gardens or something. I’ll-“

He was GOING to say that he would take care of this, but wasn’t given the chance as several loud men barged into the throne room like they owned the place. Lance stepped back with a frightened squeak that incensed Keith, and Keith moved in front of him to shield him from the intruders. They Olympians. Fu-

Zeus wasn’t there (Keith wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or worried), but Ares, Hermes, Apollo, and a few minor gods who Keith didn’t know were enough of a handful to deal with. Hermes seemed to be leading. Keith didn’t like the look of this. It felt too much like a threat. He didn’t want a fight. He didn’t want to have to tangle with someone like Ares, even in his own territory. But he had a nasty feeling in his gut that he wouldn’t have a choice if he wanted to protect Lance.

Lance gripped the back of his robes, and he reached back to squeeze his wrist for a moment, before it got ugly.

“Keith!” Hermes boomed with a triumphant smile. “How ya doin’?”

Keith didn’t answer, just shot back, “What do you want?”

Hermes grinned like he’d already won. “Always straight to the point with you, huh? Fine. We want him, obviously.” He pointed at Lance, who shrank back but didn’t let go of Keith.

Keith shrugged, playing at casualty. “Sorry. You can’t have him.”

Hermes just laughed, an ugly, hateful laugh that Keith wanted to punch him for. “I’m afraid,” he drawled, “you don’t really have a say in the matter. We’re here,” he gestured to the other gods like it wasn’t obvious who he meant, “to take Mikragori back. Under Zeus’s orders. By force, if necessary.” He looked all too pleased at the idea. Keith felt sick.

He wasn’t going to back down, though.

“Sorry,” he said again. “But he doesn’t want to go. And I’m not going to let you take him.”

Hermes closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, like he was praying for patience. _Good,_ Keith thought. _Lose your temper. Give me a reason._

But Hermes kept it together, despite the twitch at his temple. “You don’t have any say in the matter, Keith. This doesn’t have to be a fight, but Mik’s coming with us whether you like it or not. Stand aside.”

Keith didn’t look at Lance, who wasn’t making a sound, but felt his hands tighten their hold on his robes. “You misunderstand,” he said, somehow calmly. “I know you aren’t asking. I’m informing you that if you don’t leave my palace _now,_ I’m going to get angry. You remember how unpleasant that is, don’t you Hermes?” He quirked his eyebrows with a smirk, and Hermes’s face reddened. “I don’t care what Zeus said. He’s not leaving. It’s time for you to go.”

“I’d be lying if I said that I was expecting you to care about anything outside the Underworld,” Apollo interjected, “but you realize that people are dying, right? You realize that Demeter is worried sick?”

Keith scowled and opened his mouth to snap at him, but Lance spoke before he could, stepping out a little into visibility while still holding onto Keith’s robes with one hand.

“Mortals are dying because my mother is throwing a tantrum, NOT because of me. I’ve been HELPING, actually, not that you know or care about that. My mother hasn’t suddenly lost her powers just because she’s sad I’m not there, she’s just taking her anger out on people whose lives mean nothing to her. Tell Zeus that SHE’S the problem, not me.”

The entire retrieval squad looked surprised to see the young god they thought of as shallow and flighty being so commanding and sure of himself. Keith would never forgive them for their disbelief. Ares was the first to regain his composure, with a bark of laughter. “Think you’re grown now, eh? Think because you’ve been to the Underworld you know what’s what? You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He glanced at the others with a ‘get a load of this guy’ look that _enraged_ Keith. You don’t take Lance seriously? Fine. Perish.

But again, before he could do anything, one of the minor gods pushed his way to the front to address Lance. “Mik,” he said pleadingly, “we miss you. Our mother misses you. I- I understand the appeal, uh,” he glanced at Keith, cheeks pink, and Keith flushed hot, “b-but you have a home. And a whole family who’s been worrying non-stop about you. Please. Please come home.”

Lance smiled almost sadly at him. “Sorry, Philomelus. I can’t do that. This is my home now. I miss you too, but this is where I belong. Not as part of Mother’s entourage. I’m staying here.”

Philomelus looked hurt. Hermes spoke up again. “Come on, Mik. Do you really want to tangle with all of us? This’ll be a lot easier if you don’t fight. You’ll be a lot less likely to get hurt. You or him.” He jerked his thumb toward Keith. “Seven on two is hardly a fair fight, but we’re not looking for one.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “You forget that I have all of the Underworld at my command, not just my own powers. Don’t underestimate me. Or him.” He laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder and met his eyes, trying to read him. He couldn’t. He wished he could protect him from this. He deserved better than threats from a gang headed by his disgusting ex.

Ares laughed again. “What? You’re declaring war? Against me? All of Olympus will back us up, you’ll be obliterated.”

Lance blanched.

“If I have to, I won’t hesitate to,” Keith snarled. “I’ll take on everyone. All of Olympus, all of the gods, the entire world. I don’t care.” He didn’t. He knew that doing so would be suicide. He didn’t _want_ war. Ares was right, there was no way he could win, but there was also no way he could just stand by and let them take Lance.

Lance released the back of his robes and grabbed his arm. “W-wait. No. I- no, don’t.” Keith looked at him, disbelieving, but Lance addressed the others. “Fine. I’ll go. I have some words for my parents. Just leave Keith out of this.”

“What?” Keith couldn’t believe his ears. After everything-

Lance squeezed his arm, then let go and stepped forward. The others stared at him, clearly not having expected compliance. Philomelus was the first to act. He tried to embrace Lance, but Lance stopped him. “This isn’t me coming home. I need to stop Mother from destroying the world. Sorry. I miss you guys too.” He looked back at Keith for a moment, a softness in his eyes that usually completely melted Keith, but now it only made him worry more. As if reading his thoughts, Lance said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Keith tried to trust him. Because he trusted Lance. And Lance was strong. He . . . well, if he didn’t know what he was doing, then he was confident in his ability to figure it out. Keith had faith in him to be able to do that. But it was hard, watching him be led away by their least favorite Olympians like a prisoner, despite his assurances that he would go quietly.

Keith also couldn’t just wait here, guessing at what was happening. So as soon as they were gone, he cloaked himself in shadow and followed.

***

Olympus was pristine, of course. Couldn’t be living in filth like those _minor gods_ and _mortals._ Not a speck of dirt or uncivility in sight. Bright whites and sparkling gold and not a single brick out of place.

Lance, barefoot and dressed in black, stood out from it all. Not just in dress, but also in attitude. He stood tall, confident, but not proud. His hands were clasped behind his back, and while Keith knew it was because they were shaking, it made him look important. He was more nervous than he was letting on, but was doing a good job of hiding it.

He looked like the leader of the group, walking ahead of them with that air of confidence. Unless they knew what was up, the onlookers might mistake the entourage as being the ones in trouble. Even into the palace, Lance led.

When they reached the doors of the throne room, Hermes finally pulled him back and took the lead. Ares and a god who might have been one of his followers tried to grab Lance’s arms, but he didn’t let them. So they pushed him forward instead when Hermes opened the door, making him stumble. Keith wanted to trip them in return, but it would be impossible to get close enough without being noticed, so he contented himself with a teeny-tiny wave of fear, just enough to make them antsy.

The Olympians ceased their chattering as soon as they came in. Demeter leapt to her feet and almost tackled Lance in a hug. He didn’t stop her; hugged her back. She cupped his face and fussed, asking if he was okay and did he know how worried she’d been and what had possessed him to do this to her and oh, was her baby alright? Lance looked uncomfortable, but let her, waiting out the storm of questions before saying anything.

When she seemed to be calming down, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. “I’m- Mother, slow down. Yes, I’m fine. But I’m not- they’re from Keith, I can hardly wear the same robes every day for six moons – Mother, _listen-_ yes, I was always there, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I thought- ow! I JUST said I’m sorry! Mother- Mother, stop! Stop- listen to me!”

It was almost embarrassing to watch, Demeter interrupting him every time he spoke with another question or reaction. But eventually Lance managed to make her stop long enough for him to speak in more than fragments.

“Mother- Mother, I have something to say. Mostly to you, but also to Zeus. Let me-“

She stepped back, eyebrows raised. “Is that so? _You_ have something to say? You were missing for _six moons._ I think I should be the one with something to say.”

Lance’s hands clenched into fists for a moment, but he forced himself to relax. Keith understood, he’d get nowhere if he blew up now.

“Actually, Mother, I have something to say too, and it’s even more important than how worried you were about me. Which is important, and again, I’m so sorry I worried you like that, I really didn’t want to, but you- well . . .”

Demeter raised her eyebrows even higher. “Are you serious? You can’t have _anything_ to say that’s more important than how _angry_ I am right now. You run off to Gaia knows where to sulk, then disappear off the face of the earth completely, without contacting me for _six moons,_ I repeat, _six moons,_ hide behind Keith so we all think he’s keeping you captive, and you have the nerve to show your face here and make demands? Son, I love you more than I love cereals, but you’ve gone too far. You’ll be lucky to be out of my sight in the next _decade._ You’ll forgive me if I don’t really care what you have to say on the matter.”

Lance’s arms and hands shook with anger, and it took him a long moment of staring so hard at his mother that Keith was surprised when she didn’t burst into flames before he could speak.

“I’m _sorry._ I know I should have told you where I was, but you would have dragged me right out. And I didn’t want to leave. I’m- I know you love me. I do. And I love you. But you’re so . . . well, you kind of just showed why. I don’t have any space, any breathing room with you. I’m just whatever you say I am, and do whatever you tell me to do, and I’m- I’m not me. You never gave me the space to figure myself out, you just decided you knew best and made me what you wanted. And I- I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I’m my own person, not your doll. I’m more than your son. I’m more than the Little Boy you call me. And I-“

“Let me stop you there,” Demeter interrupted. “What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me that I’m a bad mother? Do you realize everything I’ve done for you? How many rules I’ve bent, how much time I’ve spent, how much love I’ve poured into you? What’s gotten into you? Wait- it’s Keith, isn’t it? He’s planted ideas in your head, told you lies about me, made you doubt me, so he could keep you there just to spite me, hasn’t he? I know how he feels about me,” (Keith was incredulous. _She_ was the one who hated _him._ Not that he blamed her, after what her other brothers had done to her, but what was she talking about?) “but I can’t believe he’d stoop this low. I’ll have his head, I swear, and you, young man, are going to stay by my side for a long while. This is probably half my fault, I wasn’t spending much time with you and I knew you were involved with Hermes, but not _that_ involved-“

“Mother!” Lance was both pale and bright red at the same time. “Will you listen to me? I’m trying to tell you that this was my decision, _mine,_ and mine alone. Keith had nothing to do with it. Well . . .” He rubbed at his neck, as though trying to hide the flush there. “Not _nothing,_ but he didn’t tell me to do or think anything. I came to those conclusions by myself. Without him. And-and I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t a- an influence, but _I_ made the decision to go to the Underworld, _I_ made the decision to stay – he was resistant at first, believe it or not, he actually respects you – and _I_ realized with just a little bit of freedom how- well, trapped and confined I’ve been. I love you, Mother, I really do, but I-“

He took a deep breath, holding her gaze. They looked a lot alike, really, except Lance had Zeus’s dark blue eyes instead of his mother’s earthy brown, and he wasn’t quite as dark as her. Keith wondered if he wished he didn’t share even those traits with his father. He would be beautiful, Keith thought, with her dark brown eyes coupled with his skin and hair.

“Mother, I don’t want to live with you anymore.” He said it with finality, with authority. Keith’s heart fluttered. Whatever happened, Lance was going to come home. He could do this. Keith couldn’t believe he’d been worried.

Demeter stared at her son for a long time. She stared, and then she turned and strode to her throne and sat down heavily, and, from there, stared at him some more.

Lance tried to speak. “Mother, I-“ but she interrupted him.

“Mikragori, what are you saying.”

He winced at the name. Keith realized that he hadn’t corrected Hermes and company earlier when they’d called him Mik. Maybe it was because of this moment. Everything being laid out at once.

Lance inhaled deeply, and said, “I am your son, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m my own person. I’m not a little boy. I’m not Mikragori. I’m- I’m Lonchi. Lance. I’m not your baby, and it’s time for me to go my own way. That’s what I’ve been doing in the Underworld. And that’s what I want to keep doing. I- I’m not here to stay. I’m going to go home, back to the Underworld, and I’m going to live there from now on. Apart from you.”

Demeter’s eyes were wide and full of tears. “I- M-Mikrago-“

“No, Mother. Lance. My name is Lance. I’m sorry if it hurts you for me to reject the name you gave me, but you literally named me Little Boy, so no. That is not my name and I will never be that Little Boy again. My name is Lance. I am not a child. And you need to accept that and move on, and leave the mortals out of it. Hurting them won’t change my mind. End this war against them.”

Demeter stared at him. “You- you don’t- who are you? You aren’t my son, you . . . my son would never . . .”

Lance closed his eyes for a moment. Keith wasn’t sure whether it was out of frustration or to keep tears at bay. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m not the son you thought you knew. I’m a person. A person with my own thoughts and opinions and feelings. My own emotions. You never saw that. But you need to now. You need to let me go. If you don’t, every mortal will die a slow, agonizing death. Many already have. I’ve seen them. People have been killed in fights over food. People have hoarded all of the food in a town and charged their neighbors so much they couldn’t pay and starved to death, entire families, with food right there in town. Children are starving.

“I love you, mother, and I don’t want to cut you off entirely – far from it – but if you don’t lift this curse from the earth? I will never speak to you again. _Never._ I’ll remember, millenia from now, and I will still hold you accountable for the complete destruction of mortals. You’ve dealt with pleading and wheedling and prayers and pressure from the other gods, I’m sure, but this is the line in the sand. You’ve ignored everyone else, but if you ignore me? If you let all mortals die because I won’t go back home with you? I will never forgive you. I will never forget, and I will never let you forget, and I will never have another kind word for you again. _Lift this curse. Lift it or you will really and truly lose me forever. That is a promise.”_

The throne room was stunned silent. No one spoke. No one moved. Demeter sat staring at Lance, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she was the most affected, the most severely rendered speechless.

Zeus opened his mouth tentatively, but Lance cut him off. “And _you_ have a responsibility to _actually make that happen._ If it comes to it, you, as the king, are expected to use whatever means necessary to preserve your kingdom. And not only are mortals a part of that kingdom, their lives are more important than my mother’s wounded feelings. Preserving the earth will not kill her, and if you have to, I fully expect you to personally ensure that she does her job. No excuses. I _will_ hold you accountable. _Do your job,_ or lose _every_ worshipper, sacrificer, lover, and entertainment vessel in the world, knowing that it is _your fault._ Am I clear?”

Again, silence.

“Excellent,” Lance said dryly. “Mother?”

Demeter started, hands trembling. Keith felt sorry for her, but not sorry enough. “I- I-“

Lance’s face softened, and he came closer to her, kneeling before her and taking her hands. “I won’t leave you Mother, not really,” he said gently. “I’ll visit you. I’ll let you mother me. I know you just want to love me. Just lift the curse. Lift the curse and I’ll stay your son. I’ll be a good son.” He held her eyes, pleading. Keith prepared himself mentally for the worst. If she refused, Lance would be heartbroken. He believed in her goodness, and being proven wrong would hurt him more than just about anything else could. “Mother, please.”

Demeter did nothing for several seconds. She stared at Lance, silent tears still saying more than words could.

Finally, she nodded. “I . . . I agree,” she said weakly. “But . . . oh, Mikragori-“

“Lance, Mother,” he corrected gently.

“I- Lance – oh, you know how much you hurt me? You know how hard it will be?”

Lance squeezed her hands. “I know. But you have to let me grow up. Let me go.”

Demeter closed her eyes for a long time. When she opened them, she looked defeated, exhausted. “Okay. I’ll- I’ll do it. But I will grieve your loss. You can’t prevent that, and the world will suffer for it, but I- I will do what I can to prevent any more than is necessary. I will bring back prosperity. But the anniversary of . . . of losing you. It will be a dark time for all. But I will not do this again. You have my word.”

Lance nodded, mouth twisting with emotion. “Th-thank you, Mother. This is the right choice. And I love you. So much. Thank you.”

She nodded, meeting his eyes for a moment, then looking down.

Lance stood and turned to address the rest of the Olympians. “I will not forget this,” he said. “How you all stood by and let this happen. I will never let this be forgotten. And this will _never_ happen again. Each of you are responsible for ensuring that. As am I. As are the minor gods and goddesses, and the nature spirits, and the titans. All of us.” Most of them, especially Zeus, looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. What would they do, argue? Keith smiled to himself. Lance was really so much more than they’d ever thought, and they didn’t know what to do with it.

“I’ll be a frequent visitor here. And I expect to be shown the same respect you show any other god.” He gave Hermes a sharp look. “I will not tolerate the attitudes you have held toward me any longer. I am a god, the son of an Olympian. I will be shown respect, or I will act on my own, without your approval.” He met each Olympian’s eyes in turn, lingering on Zeus. “That is all. I am returning to the Underworld. Good day to you all. I will return for the solstice with Keith. And Mother,” he sent her a warm smile, “I’ll be in touch. Goodbye.” Without waiting for a response from anyone, he spun on his heels and marched away, Keith following close behind.

***

As soon as he saw Keith, Lance barreled toward him and _leaped_ at him, nearly knocking him over, flinging his arms around his neck and laughing like the world was new. Keith held onto him and spun him around, laughing too, because Lance’s joy was infectious. Lance clung to him, asking, “Did you see that? Did you see that?” and all Keith could do was say yes, and Lance was amazing, and he was so, so proud of him, and that made Lance cry. And Keith held onto him and said that it was true, he was so proud, and Lance should be proud too, because he was right, he was grown and powerful and kind and Keith-

He stopped himself before he could say it and kissed Lance instead, wet and messy from tears and laughter, and Lance kissed him back and said, “Thank you for believing in me. Mmm! I- Keith I- mm, oh, Keith, I love you.”

And Keith’s heart stuttered, and his hands shook as he cupped Lance’s face in them, and his voice trembled as he said, “I love you too, Lance.” And he pressed their foreheads together and Lance huffed out what might have been a laugh and what might have been a sob, and Keith said it again: “I love you, my heart, I love you.” And Lance clung to him so tightly that Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to peel himself away, not that he minded, and Keith said it again, and again, like a chant, or a prayer: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Lance kissed him, crying and laughing and shaking. “I love you,” he said, “I love you, Keith, I love you. Oh, I love you, so much, Keith, I love you so much.”

Again and again they kissed, again and again they said it, again and again and again until they were out of tears and so full they were on the verge of bursting with adoration. And they held each other until they were too tired to stand any longer, and went to bed only to hold each other all night long.

And Keith had never been so happy.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhh I have no idea how to do links but I'm hi1plusterrors on tunglr dot hell, and hilplusterrors on insta. I'm not very interesting but I reblog a lot of klance art and atla art and fic recs.


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